#also I love the idea of the Lonely largely affecting teenagers

[cptnwynnie]

“Fear avatars are so scary” and then the fear avatar is a sixteen year old girl who spends most of her free time alone in her room listening to mcr while she stares at the ceiling

#tma #the magnus archives #tma oc #original character #my art #her name is Alina and I have many Feelings about her #also I love the idea of the Lonely largely affecting teenagers #because being a teenage can be an insanely lonely and isolating experience #especially- in Alina’s case- when you are queer and/or neurodivergent #also I think young avatars are cool #but also they make me emotional

[sleeperswakewriting]

First time smut? Could be both or one inexperienced with a dose of comedy ^^

Summary: Childhood friends to lovers, Levi finally works up the nerve to ask Petra to go to prom with him. After years of pining, they decide to lose their virginity to each other on prom night.

Rated: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Prom outfits based on this!

now playing inevitable by anberlin and I think we're alone now by tiffany

If you told Levi Ackerman that the best night of his life would include loud music, drunk teenagers, and a broken air conditioner, then he would have called you crazy and told you to piss off.

Except, of course, unless you mentioned one small detail.

He would be attending prom with his childhood crush, Petra Ral.

Friends since they were babies, neighbors both raised by single parents, they were the best of friends.

Even if they were polar opposites.

Petra was on the cheerleading team, doing cartwheels and somersaults by the time she could walk and was a social butterfly with a heart of gold.

Levi had exactly five friends, not including Petra—Erwin, Hange, Mike, Eld, and Gunther. He met them when they were in elementary school and his friend group had stayed the same ever since.

Throughout the years, their friendship faced trials and tribulations, mostly due to the fact Levi had been in love with her for as long as he could remember, and Petra was absolutely oblivious to the fact.

So much so, that she would dance around the room while they did homework, clad in booty shorts and a loose t-shirt with no bra on. He knew she saw him as a brother, going as far as to kiss him on the cheek in times when she was feeling particularly affectionate, and allowing him to wrap his arms around her with each heartbreak she faced.

"Levi, why don't you ever date? You could get any girl you want!"

He didn't dare tell her why. Even though Petra would never actually leave him, he enjoyed their affable candor, her free touches, and smugly, their Friday night movie nights, a ritual they had since they were children.

Which was also the point of contention between her and her current boyfriend.

He had a bit of a reputation as being a hard ass, also Petra's silent bodyguard even though she didn't need it, and one guy in particular—Oluo, had the nerve to come between their sacred time.

And Petra being Petra, invited him to their movie night, to Levi's chagrin, but miraculously, Oluo had taken a liking to him and the three had a few more movie nights together.

Eventually, they broke up amicably, with Petra teasing Levi that it was because Oluo had a bigger crush on him than her.

It was their senior year, which meant college applications were rolling out, and for the first time in Levi's life, he faced the reality that he might be alone.

Petra had gotten a full scholarship as a cheerleader, Erwin was going to business school, Hange to a STEM school, which left him...

"Directionless!" His mother called him. "I've worked so hard raising an intelligent young man and you can't pick a school?! Application times are ticking, Levi, you need to choose something—-a major, a school, something!"

He asked Petra what she thought about him going to school across the country, and in her infuriating smile, she patted him on the shoulder and said whatever made him happy.

I want to make you happy, he wanted to say.

The summer of their junior year was filled as it always was; late nights talking around the bonfire, camping, and summer jobs.

Petra had gotten him a gig as a camp counselor, a job he wouldn't have gotten if it weren't for her since he had "the personality of a boar," as Hange aptly put it. But, with her sweet persuasion and way with people, she had convinced the manager that Levi would be a fine addition to the team.

And he could lead the children's soccer league!

As luck would have it, he was pretty good with kids, and they latched on to Levi's stoic personality with glee.

It was a sleep-away camp, and while the girls and boys slept in separate cabins, counselors included, Levi knew Petra had a rule-breaking streak (that she got from him) and snuck out after curfew so they could watch the stars.

"The night sky is easier to see than in our hometown!" She exclaimed, leaning against his shoulder.

There was no way she would be able to hear how fast his heart was beating, how his cheeks were heated from how close she was, but all of that seemed to change when she took his hand in hers.

"This is our last summer like this, isn't it?" She whispered, and he dared to wrap an arm around her, even though it was far from the first time.

"Yeah," he agreed gruffly, not wanting the cruel reminder. Would they stay friends? Would she leave him? Did he fuck up all his chances to be with her?

Erwin and Hange kept telling him to tell her how he feels—they weren't getting any younger, and Levi morosely pointed out that she's dated several people, with none of them like him at all.

Well, there's a reason why none of them worked out, they observed.

Petra leaned in closer, burying her face into his shoulder as she sniffed. "I'm not ready for senior year. So many choices to make. I mean, I'm glad to be more independent, but I like living with my dad, you being right next door, and our friends all being in one place. Everything is going to change."

Levi swallowed, her words like bile in his throat, but choosing to placate her.

"Well, not everything."

She looked at him, eyes watering with hope.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, looking away from her, not being able to tolerate her steady laugh, her playful friendly shove, and an "Oh, you!"

But she did neither of those things, and he looked back cautiously, noticing a different look in her eyes.

Maybe it was the moonlight, but her gaze was tender, her lips puckering in a way that he'd never seen before, and before he knew it, she was leaning in to kiss him.

Levi had his first kiss when he was 13 years old in a game of spin the bottle, with Petra in attendance. She had been making eyes at a boy all night, and in a fit of frustration, he spun the bottle furiously, hoping it would land on her, but instead, on another girl who he was fairly sure had a crush on him.

Petra walloped with the rest of their friends, cheering and loudly goading, and it was over before he could blink twice.

Hange took pity on him later, locking them in a closet for 7 minutes in heaven, but it turned into Petra crying over the boy who wasn't paying attention to her, with him consoling her as best friends do.

She was bliss, her sweet pea body spray engulfing his senses, as he tentatively kissed her back, wondering if this was some delirious dream he was having.

Petra was moaning in a way that he thought was only in fantasy, at night when he dared imagined himself as her boyfriend, and when she pressed her body against his, breasts deliciously folding against his chest, he groaned in return, releasing them from the kiss to catch his breath.

"Petra, what's going on?" He asked, caressing his forehead to hers, begging that this wasn't some mistake.

She kissed his cheek, then his nose, as she giggled, "I love you, Levi. You've always been there for me, I guess what I've been looking for has been here the whole time. You...You feel the same way about me, right?"

Nifa and Nanaba had teased her relentlessly that she was building a harem since, for every guy she dated, Levi was very much a part of her life, even accompanying her on some group dates.

"I don't want him to be lonely!" She argued, putting on her watermelon lipgloss. "You know how he is, all by his lonesome. Everyone knows he's like my brother."

Nanaba laughed, giving her a look, "Well someone better call the cops because brothers shouldn't be looking at you like that. I can't believe you wear this around him," she said, pinching Petra's thigh that cut off just at her ass by her extra-large PJ shirt.

Rolling her eyes, "Please, we've seen each other in diapers. And in cringey Halloween costumes. I think we're past feeling embarrassed."

"Whatever you say," Nanaba said, noticing the pink hue on Petra's cheeks as she talked about him.

Levi thought he would be caught dead before he said I love you to anyone but his mother, and even then, it was given in brief, stilted tones.

But with Petra, he said it as quickly as he could, pulling her in for another kiss, wanting to hold on to her for as long as she would allow him.

His mother was thrilled, always having a feeling that her son harbored feelings for their ginger neighbor, and her father awkwardly patted him on the back.

"Glad it's you, son. I'm tired of all the jocks she brings around," and with a crane of the neck and a stern look, he said, "By the way, Petra, same rules apply, door stays open at all times!"

Petra groaned, stomping up the stairs. "Daddy, it's Levi! We used to listen to music on my boombox when we were 10, remember? We'd keep the door closed so you couldn't hear the CDs we bought from the thrift store."

Her father gave her a cautionary glance to her, then to Levi, who for the first time in his life, felt scared of the serene man.

"Door. Open." Her dad said with a final word, and Petra huffed, dragging Levi into her bedroom as she bemoaned how much she wanted to kiss him, earning a cough from downstairs.

Their relationship was "going steady" as some would call, with it being Levi's first relationship (he hoped his only), and Petra getting used to the idea that he was now her boyfriend.

He got jealous quite often, to the extent where he would hold her hand in the hallway or would walk with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. If he was feeling particularly whipped, he'd hold her books, but he wasn't sure if the snickers from Erwin and Hange were worth it. Not the one for PDA, Petra was surprised when he asked to hold hands, and she was more so endeared at his exuberant affections.

So far, these were the happiest days of Levi's life.

When springtime came around, with the seniors abuzz with the promise of graduation and more importantly, prom, he came to the dreaded realization that Petra was expecting a "promposal," something he had seen throughout his four years of high school but always wrote it off as annoying.

He supposed he didn't think he'd be lucky enough to go with the girl of his dreams.

It started with Nifa, who received a promposal from Gunther in the most saccharine way possible, a candy gram.

Then Nanaba and Mike, the latter coordinating a flash mob with their friends. (Levi didn't dance, but Petra told him all about it and showed them the final video they recorded).

It was a given that Eld and his long-time girlfriend would be going together.

Hange dropped on Levi that she and Erwin were also going as a pair, but it was nothing serious, and decided to go together just so they wouldn't have to deal with the headache of finding an actual date.

Which left Petra, waiting for Levi, and not being the one for grand gestures, he sat himself down to work on a promposal in the only way he knew how to.

Coding a video game.

Petra may be a cheerleader, but she was also a huge nerd thanks to Levi, where they spent most of their childhood playing every video game between his Gamecube, her PS2, and subsequently, their Nintendo DS's, and trading and exchanging games throughout their adolescence.

Their personal favorite was Zelda, with Petra often handing the controller off to him for the harder dungeons, and he knew just what to do when they had their usual Friday night movie, this time at his house.

Cuddled up on the sofa, they were kissing, barely paying attention to the movie as the white of the TV illuminated their bodies. A half-eaten box of pizza was open and cups of soda were on the table in front of them.

It was getting late, and he knew Petra had to be home soon, and he tried to focus on not losing his nerve. Hands at her waist, her plush body against his, he told himself there was nothing to worry about since this was Petra and she chose him when she could have any guy in the school. Eight months of dating should have said so.

Petra seemed to catch his hesitancy as she broke the kiss, but suckled at his lower lip in a way that he adored before she whispered, "Something wrong?"

She knew him so well.

Pulling her in for one more kiss, he reached for the remote to shut the TV off. "I coded a game," he said seriously, wondering if his face gave away his nervousness. "I was wondering if you could try it."

Eyes sparkling, Petra nodded excitedly. "It's been a while since you've made something!"

He ran to get his laptop, already having the file ready while he opened his computer, sliding it in front of her.

"It's, uh, standard WASD to walk, and you can use the numbers to click on objects," he explained as a black screen opened, showcasing a pixelated version of Petra. She held a magic wand with some fire at the end, and she was smiling, wearing her cheerleading outfit.

"Is this me?" She asked, giggling as she went through the dungeon, shooting fire bolts from her wand.

He nodded, staring at the screen in apprehension.

"Not to be a critic, but it's a little easy. Maybe add some mazes so it's not as linear?" She suggested, blasting through a monster.

"Sure, yeah, I'll keep it in mind," he said absently, chewing at his lip as she made it to the final room.

A dragon with a letterman jacket appeared, and Petra easily dodged his fire while she gave more flicks of her wand. The dragon poofed away in a cloud of smoke, revealing a chest, and as she clicked to open it, the chest opening sound from Zelda played, making Petra squeal.

"Oh boy, what am I gonna get?" She asked with an excited clap, and the screen enlarged, a picture of a blue rose and a question in pixelated letters asking,

IT'S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE. WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?

YES / NO

Mouth gaping, Petra looked to Levi, who was nearly squirming out of his skin in panic, clasping his hands together firmly.

Petra smiled, moving the cursor over to "YES" and clicked on it, playing the item received sound from Zelda, and confetti popped on the screen.

Crashing into Levi, Petra kissed him, wondering why it took her so long to see that she had been adored her entire life.

"You're so romantic," she sighed, tugging at his hair and running her fingers down his undercut.

Levi wanted to nearly cry from relief but quickly forgot about his distress as Petra flicked her tongue down his earlobe. She whispered she had five minutes until curfew, and it was a good thing they were neighbors so she wouldn't have to hurry home.

---

It's too damn hot, Levi thought to himself, tugging at his cravat that contrasted with his black button-down and white suit. A chain tied the two ends of the jacket together, also accompanied by a white pocket square, and even though he liked his ensemble when his mother first helped him pick it out, it was starting to feel too tight as sweat clung to his skin, the layers of the fabric suffocating him in the mid-spring weather.

Maybe it wasn't the only reason he was hot, he entertained, seeing Petra dance with their friends, dressed in a spaghetti strap orange dress and matching cream ribbon. Around her wrist was a blue rose corsage, the one he gifted her when he picked her up from her house in his mom's beat-up minivan.

She looked radiant, and perhaps what made her even more attractive was the fact that she was dressed for him. He had seen her in dozens of outfits ranging from sweat pants to middle school formals, but tonight, this was just about the two of them.

Blushing, she accepted his flowers and corsage, posing for pictures by the stairwell he used to climb with her, pretending monsters were chasing them.

Wrapping his arms around her had never felt so right as they slow danced, the dim light and rainbow disco ball illuminating their touch starved bodies. Levi Ackerman didn't dance, but for her, he would do anything as long as she was by his side.

Pressing her cheek to his chest, happy she chose only an inch for her heels so he was still taller, she whispered to him, "Are you nervous about tonight?"

Petra had agreed to go as fast or slow as Levi wanted, especially with it being his first relationship, but there was one request she had after he had asked her to prom.

"I want to have sex with you if you're ready," she said after a heated make-out session.

"Here?!" He asked, looking at his childhood bedroom, the same navy walls he had known for 18 years staring back at him.

"No, not here!" She giggled, flopping down onto his body.

"Prom night," she said quietly. "I've been saving myself for someone special and I want it to be you. I've never gone all the way with a guy...."

"Really?" He asked in wonderment, assuming Petra had sex, a thought he kept firmly shut off at the back of his mind.

"It just never felt right before. Until you." Scooting up to meet his lips, he groaned, evidence of his arousal for her apparent from the first time they kissed and then after. Sometimes she palmed his pants, sometimes he took care of himself right after she left, but he never wanted to push too far, or come across as inexperienced to Petra.

"We're both 18, I was thinking we can rent a hotel room. I can tell my dad I'm sleeping at Nifa's. You can say you're at Erwin's."

A million thoughts and images flashed through Levi's mind, but the only thing he could hear was I'm going to have sex.

"Prom night, then," he agreed.

He had stayed up hours the night before reading up on sex, the technical side of things, the intimate parts, and discussing protection with Petra the weeks leading up to it. They agreed on condoms, so he went to the store in the middle of the night to get a box, and stuffed them in the back of his underwear drawer so his mother wouldn't find them.

Before he left for Petra's, his mother embraced him, giving him the speech that he was growing up so fast, how proud she was of him, and that she was so happy he and Petra were dating.

It was then she pulled out a plastic shopping bag of condoms and started putting them in his pockets, both his jacket and pants, and Levi nearly pushed her to the ground, face flaming.

"What the hell, mom?!"

She gave him a stern look. "I know what kids do on prom night, Levi. I just want you and Petra to be careful—Don't make me a grandmother just yet! Look, I got you different sizes and flavors—"

They were not having this conversation, and Levi haphazardly unlocked the front door, barely sliding his shoes on, "Stop. Just stop. We're, uh, we're fine. We have everything we need."

Kuchel breathed a sigh of relief, placing three more condoms into Levi's hand, accompanied by forty dollars. "Good. Just be safe. Tell me if you need anything, and have fun at the hotel," she winked, and Levi gaped at her.

"What?" She asked innocently. "I know you guys are 18. And I might have heard Petra in the grocery store gossiping with her friends."

He facepalmed, groaning. Of course, Petra would be broadcasting losing her virginity.

To you, he reminded himself.

Levi stepped back into the house, kissing his mom swiftly on the cheek, muttering I love you as he took the car keys and drove down the half a block to Petra's house. Kuchel waved as she closed the door, happy her son was finally with Petra.

"A little," he admitted to Petra, back in the present. He kissed the crown of her head, holding her close. "Are you?"

Nodding, she raised her head to look at him, though they were nearly at eye level.

"But I'm happy it's with you."

A more upbeat song began, causing the numerous couples on the dance floor to break away and spin onto the dance floor. Petra let him go, but grasping his hand as she guided them back to their friends, encouraging them all to hold hands.

"To senior year!" They shouted, and as much Levi wanted to say he hated crowds, the sweat, and the lack of personal space, he found himself not caring, savoring the last tendrils of adolescence.

---

Petra was talking nonstop as they drove to the hotel, only 15 minutes away from the prom venue, and while she was usually a chatterbox, she found it was more from nerves than actually having anything significant to say.

Levi had one of their mixtapes in the CD player, burned during their middle school years written in sharpie Levi and Petra's mixtape, volume 5. Stolen songs from the internet, coupled with tracks from both of their iTunes libraries, Petra always marveled at how opposite they could be, and yet shared similar interests.

The songs were so familiar to her that she involuntarily sang along, reminiscing how often she played their shared songs and rolling over in excitement on her bed when she found a track she knew Levi would like.

Levi parked, hand still resting at the clutch as he looked to her with a steady breath. "We're here," he said quietly and Petra nodded sweetly in return.

Both brought two small duffles to change out of their prom clothes, and shuffled into the hotel, checking in, trying not to look like two teenagers about to have sex for the first time, but ultimately failing as Levi's hands shook as he slid the key card in.

Booking the cheapest room they could find that wasn't a motel, there was little space to walk other than the perimeter around the king-sized bed, a TV with a dresser, and a door leading to the bathroom where Petra excused herself to.

Levi switched the lights on, checking for anything unsavory, and dropped his duffel bag to the floor, checking himself in the door mirror.

Should he change? He didn't want to look too casual, not having the faintest idea of what "sexy" pajamas looked like for men, and he awkwardly paced, debating to at least take his jacket off, unhooking the chain to let his lapels break free.

He hung the jacket over the nearby loveseat, then fiddled with his cravat, wondering if he should take that off too since Petra may find it to be a nuisance, and before he could debate with himself any longer, he heard the bathroom door open up, revealing Petra in a pink baby doll outfit.

Blinking at him with doe eyes, she blushed furiously, not meeting his wandering eyes.

She was definitely not wearing that before they got in, so she must have changed, and suddenly, Levi felt very overdressed as his mouth went dry.

Licking his lips, he hurriedly got the "sex stuff" from his bag, throwing the box of condoms onto the nightstand, followed by lube, and Petra started giggling as he undid the condoms from his pockets as well.

"How many times do you think we're going to have sex tonight? 50?" She joked, eyes raking at the varieties.

"My mom insisted," he grumbled, heat creeping up his neck and Petra's eyes widened in embarrassment and fear.

"You told her?!"

"No!" He blurted defensively. "She figured it out. You know how perceptive she is."

Petra hummed in agreement, scooping up the condoms and putting them back into his duffel.

"I think it's safe to say we can just use that box," she said, pointing to the Trojan extra-large, then running her hands down his arms.

Levi shuddered, unsure if he wanted to keep staring at her or rip the lingerie off, but found himself unable to speak as Petra kissed him heatedly, tongue diving in, and placed his hands on her breasts.

"You can touch them, you know," she whispered, and Levi could have come alone from the contact, his hands touching the silken mounds he had fantasized about ever since they hit puberty.

He backed them into the bed, with Petra's back falling against the plush sheets, and she moaned as Levi pressed his weight against her, gently rocking against her body. She reached for his cravat, tugging it off so that it hung around his neck, and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?" she purred, her pearl earrings catching the light in the room.

"Yes, but I can stand to hear it a bit more," he replied, daring himself to touch her legs, each graze of his fingertips like electricity down her spine.

The babydoll deliciously pushed her breasts together as a cute little ribbon sat in between her breasts. The material was nearly opaque, and his mouth watered, thinking of Petra in a thong, despite the number of times he'd seen her in a bathing suit.

"And you look, uh, amazing," he breathed above her.

"Really?" Petra exclaimed in relief. "Nanaba helped me pick it out, said that you're probably more into cute-sexy than sexy-sexy."

Gently sliding the straps down so he could kiss her bare shoulders where her freckles met, he said, "Anything you wear for me is sexy."

"Mmm," Petra sighed as he continued working at her top, finding the ribbon in the back and letting it fall off her arms until she was left in her bare breasts.

Instinctively, she went to cover then, but at Levi's eager and furtive look, she released them, guiding his hands back onto her chest, encouraging him to knead and caress her.

He was clumsy, but in an endearing way, fascinated that he was able to elicit such sounds from her, and when he realized she was only wearing her underwear, and he was wearing too much, he immediately discarded his shirt, then moved to unbuckle his pants.

"Let me help you with that," Petra said, sliding onto her knees to unzip his fly, then eagerly sliding them down his legs as he kicked it off.

"Wow," she breathed at the tent in his boxers, and he had the urge to cover himself as well until Petra reached for him, stroking his length and he moaned loudly.

"Y-you can't do that, I'm gonna come," he coaxed himself to say despite how magnificent it felt.

Blushing, happy she was able to make him feel so much with so little, Petra removed her hand and embraced him as they fell back onto the mattress.

They kissed again, feeling each other's bodies for the first time in this state, hands needy but asking for permission, Levi skimmed the tips of his fingers over Petra's ass, earning a hiss of pleasure.

"I need you," she whined, and unsure of how to proceed, Levi detached himself and grabbed a condom, hands shaking as he undid the wrapper.

"You know how to put it on?" Petra asked out of concern and fascination.

He nodded, slipping it down while pulling the tip. "I've done a test run just to make sure. I, uh, was thinking of you the entire time—-" Fuck, this was not romantic in the slightest, Levi chastised to himself. Petra didn't want to hear how he tested the physics of it, how to avoid using it incorrectly which led to him snapping it against his fingers.

But practice makes perfect, and he felt confident as he hovered above Petra, kissing her neck softly while feeling awkward from the latex between them. She hooked her thumbs over her panties, taking them off, and spread her legs for him, her expression yearning and hopeful.

"I've heard it might hurt," Levi said, breath heady at the sight of her womanhood, a cute ginger patch of curls.

"It's okay. You can't hurt me, it's you," she said gently, resting her hands against his shoulder blades, egging him forward.

Levi placed the tip at her entrance, holding his breath as Petra wriggled beneath him, gasping from the friction and he slid in very slowly, both moaning from the contact.

Petra was slick with arousal, and as he continued to push in, they gasped in time, and Levi had to keep himself from moving too firmly because she felt absolutely wonderful, all warm and tight.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing her wrinkled expression, and Petra gasped, opening one eye.

"Y-yeah, you're just really big. But I feel okay."

Pride swelled within him, kissing her gently as he throbbed with desire, and asked her permission to move.

Lifting her hips, he groaned, pumping into her once, then twice, then on the third—-

"Argh!" He gasped, already coming, not being to restrain himself because that's how good she felt.

Shame washed over him as Petra realized what was happening, and she held him gently as goosebumps danced across his skin.

He immediately removed himself from her, hobbling to the bathroom, and Petra looked worried as she processed what had just happened, but pleased that nothing unsafe occurred.

She squeezed her legs together, disappointment and frustration throbbing between her legs, but Levi reappeared, looking thoroughly abashed as he tucked his underwear back on.

"Petra, I'm so sorry about that. Let me make it up to you—"

And before Petra could protest, he crawled to her on all fours at the base of the bed, and placed his hands on her knees, opening them slightly.

"I read that most girls like this better away," he began, kissing her inner thigh, and Petra rolled her head back, happy he was tending to her, but squeaking as he immediately dove his head between her legs, then licking her core with an unpracticed tongue.

"Eek!" She screeched, kicking him in the chest out of reflex from the surprising sensation.

"Ow!" Levi exclaimed, falling back and looking like a mixture of pissed off and fear.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, inching back to her, and Petra plopped her head against the pillow, laughing hard to herself.

"I should be asking you that, I'm sorry I kicked you," she said, giggling into the popcorn ceiling, then turning to face him. "I think for that, we need to warm up a bit. But...I don't want that tonight. Another time," she added with a hopeful look and Levi smiled sadly, hanging his head.

"I'm shit in bed."

Petra weaved a hand through his hair, realizing how much pressure he was under. "No, you're not, Levi. You were just excited. If anything, it's flattering," she said, an adorable pink blush filling her cheeks.

"We'll get better with time and practice. While we wait for you to reset, I brought something for me. I figured something like this would happen."

She padded to her duffel bag, taking out a pink dildo, and clicked it on. It vibrated, and Levi looked at her with a dumbstruck face as she smirked in response.

"Maybe we'll need all those condoms anyway."

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #my fics #levi x petra #ask prompts

[marvelgiggles]

Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 1

I swear you guys aren’t prepared for the sweetness and sadness to come!!

THIS IS A TICKLE SERIES!!! DON’T LIKE THEN PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING!

The drive to Tony’s house was longer and more out of the city than you expected. The land was beautiful and then when you saw the house you were in awe. You’ve never seen a house so big.

“Not what you expected huh?” Tony asked. You shook your head when suddenly nervousness settled in your stomach, what if you got lost or got lonely in this huge house. Happy pulled into the entrance way and opened Tony’s door, you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize Tony got out of the car. “Having second thoughts?” You cleared your head and got out of the car.

“Well everyone knows your coming so it shouldn’t be a big surprise to them. Don’t worry they are some of the nicest and kindest people you’ll ever meet.” Tony said.

Who was everyone? Was it a large group of people? Were they people your age? A million more thoughts ran through your head as you walked closer and closer to the door. Tony opened the door for you and were just as in shock as you were when you saw the outside of the house. It was oddly comforting and also made you feel very very small due to the size.

“Come on everyone is this way.” Tony motioned for you to follow him. You walked into what seemed like a living room and there were probably eight people waiting to meet you. They all looked familiar too, but you still couldn’t remember where you’ve seen them. You were a little intimidated with all the eyes on you but you were determined to stand your ground. “Everyone this is Y/N, Y/N these are the Avengers.” 

The Avengers! That’s why they all looked familiar! But you were now going to possibly live with the Avengers, there was no way this was real life. This had to be a dream you would be waking up from very very soon.

“I’m sure you all want to get to know her but I’m going to show her her room and let her get settled in.” Tony stated as he motioned for you to follow him. He lead you down a maze of hallways. Finally the both of you stopped at the door you assumed to be your room, “I know it isn’t much right now but I have some stuff coming later and if you want anything don’t be afraid to ask, okay?” You nodded your head and opened the door. 

The room was far bigger than you’ve had in the past and you thought it was perfect right now, you had no idea what Tony could have bought to make it better. Although you all of a sudden felt guilty he had bought anything in the first place, I mean you were practically a stranger, a pretzel and hot dog were one thing but furniture for your own room was a whole other thing. 

“Go ahead get settled in. If you need anything let JARVIS know.” 

“Hello.” JARVIS’s voice echoed the room, alarming you a little. 

“Don’t worry he can’t see you or anything but go ahead put your things away and even take a nap if you want. You deserve a good sleep.” 

“Thank you.” You told Tony as you watched him shut your door to give you some privacy. 

You quickly put the few things you had away and crawled into your new bed. You’ve never had a bed this comfortable and quickly fell asleep.

________________

Meanwhile down in the living room

“Tony where in the world did you find her.” Steve asked. 

“She wandered into the Avengers tower lobby probably to get out of the heat. When I saw her all dirty and she looked so lost. I couldn’t help it and I can’t explain it. I tried to follow her but lost her in the crowd so I had JARVIS follow her. He followed her all the way to a teenage drop in center.” Tony said filling everyone in.

“Okay but you can’t just bring random teenagers back to the compound.” Clint argued. “What if she has an actual family out there or is on the run.”

“I’m having JARVIS try to find out her background and who she is. If she was kidnapped or something when she was younger, I will simply bring her back to her family. If they don’t have any red flags.” 

“I think she’s cute.” Bucky stated completely understanding what Tony felt because as soon as he laid eyes on her, a fierce need to protect her ran through him.

JARVIS discovered who she was and Tony starts reading the report to the team.

“Okay her name is Y/N L/N. She was born on Y/B to a Jane Doe at a hospital in Idaho and was abandoned in the hospital so she was immediately put into social services and was placed with a couple in New York. The reports from the social worker say that the couple was oddly clinical in their relationship with her but they had no means to remove her because she was excelling in school and all of her needs were being met. It also says that she always seemed to be on her absolute best behavior and the social worker said it looked like she was looking for approval and affection every time she looked at the couple she was placed with and it only got worse each time she visited.” Tony finished quietly at the end, his heart breaking for that poor girl. 

“She must not know what it means to be loved.” Bucky also stated with heartbreak in his voice. 

“Avengers, we have a new mission. We have to help Y/N learn how to be loved.” Everyone nodded in agreement. 

———————-

It’s been a few weeks since Tony took you in. You still couldn’t believe that you were living here. Everyone was so nice. They always smiled at you when they saw you, they wanted you to spend time with them and include you in things, they always communicated with you not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Although you had a special bond with Tony because he obviously took you in and was the father figure in your life. A couple days after Tony brought you to the Avengers compound, is what he called it, he noticed you were pretty quiet. 

“Y/N are you uncomfortable here?” Tony asked you. 

“No.” You told him honestly.

“Well I’ve noticed you’ve been pretty quiet.” He mentioned. “I just want you to know you can totally be yourself here and I know that your foster parents didn’t treat you very well.” You stiffened up a little when he mentioned them. “Sweetie, I have to know. Did they hurt you at all?”

“They didn’t hit me if that’s what you mean. I don’t think they really wanted me though.” You said almost ashamed and you looked down at your lap to embarrassed to look at Tony. 

“Oh sweetheart. Well I can tell you we want you here, we want to show you what a real family is. I also want you to know no question is off limits, so if you have absolutely any questions about anything don’t feel scared to ask. There is no judgement here.”

You nodded, excited to see what a family is.

Tony stood up, “Now let’s go get something to eat.” 

You also had a special bond with Bucky too. There was something about the way that he looked at you when Tony introduced you to everyone, you felt very safe, protected and something else you couldn’t figure out. You were also fascinated by his metal arm.

“Hey Y/N, wanna watch a movie with me?” Bucky asked you. 

“Yeah.” You said you didn’t watch a lot of them growing up and you loved them. Plus you had a lot of them to catch up on. You sat on the couch away from Bucky.

“Y/N you can sit closer to me if you want, if you wanna cuddle we can do that too.” Bucky smiled at you.

“What’s cuddling?” Your foster parents never showed you any affection. You knew what hugs were but that’s all and your foster parents didn’t even show you what that was. One of your classmates in kindergarten did that to you and you had to ask your teacher what it was. You liked it when you classmate hugged you it made you feel warm inside. Although your foster parents didn’t like it and you didn’t know anyone you could get a hug from. 

Bucky’s heart hurt a little bit, how could your foster parent never want to cuddle a sweet little thing like you. “Cuddling is a sort of gentle hug that you do with someone you care about. Here I’ll show you. Scoot over to me.” He waited until you were right next to him. “Now I’m going to lay down and you can lay down on my right side, then I’m going to put my arm around you and pull you closer. You can rest your head on my chest if you want too, kinda like a pillow. Sound good?”

You nodded excited about the new type of affection that Bucky was going to show you. You crawled into Bucky’s side and you had to shift a little bit to get comfortable but you loved this feeling. 

“Feel good sweetheart.” Bucky said. You nodded with a small smile on your face and nestled a little further into Bucky’s chest. “Good.” He said as he kissed your forehead. You turned to look up at him. 

“Why’d you put your lips on me?” You asked him. 

If Bucky’s heart hurt from the fact that you’ve never been cuddle, it shattered to pieces when he realized that you’ve never been kissed in your entire life. It made him want to cry and also destroy those foster parents of yours for neglecting you of love and affection your entire life. “That’s called a kiss. It’s another thing people do to show someone they love them. It can mean a lot of things hello, goodbye, it’s okay, I’m sorry, but it will always always mean I love you.” You felt bold and decided to also kiss his cheek in return, Bucky’s heart practically melted and he pulled you even closer. 

Later on in the movie, you were starting to drift off. “Hey no falling asleep.” Bucky teased as he squeezed your side. You gasped at the new feeling and tried to squirm away from his hand. “Well it looks like you’re ticklish, Y/N!” 

“What’s that?” You said before he could do it again. Bucky was so happy that he was the one that was teaching you all sorts of new things and by finding out you were ticklish made you even more adorable to him.

“Ticklish is something that describes when another person pokes, squeezes or rapidly moves their fingers over a spot on your body it can make you want to squirm away and causes you to laugh. Usually, people have more than one ticklish spot and they have one more ticklish than the other. Now let’s find yours.” 

Bucky pulled you up onto his chest so you were laying belly to belly, he wrapped both his arms around you and started to squeeze your sides again and you broke out into giggles. You actually didn’t mind the feeling it was kinda fun and something you’ve never felt before. “Seems like you pretty ticklish Y/N, so that must mean you are ticklish it some other places.” Bucky teased as his fingers started to work upwards towards your ribs.

You started to struggle a little bit more and laugh a little harder. You couldn’t stop your body from trying to grab his hands, even though you didn’t want him to stop tickling you. “Looks like your ribs are pretty ticklish Y/N. Are your armpits ticklish too?” 

When Bucky put his fingers in your armpits you started to laugh very high pitched and rapidly. “You sound like a Tickle Me Elmo doll there sweetie.” He said as he then kissed your cheek but didn’t stop tickling your armpits.

You were starting to get worn out and Bucky must have caught on because he stopped tickling you. “Tickling can also wear you out and it’s important to let the person you are tickling catch their breath after a while because you might make them pass out. 

“Are you ticklish?” You asked Bucky. 

“Yes.” He said with some nervousness in his voice. “But you can tickle me if you want.” 

You smiled and started to squeeze his side just like he did to yours and Bucky squirmed a little but start to laugh. You loved the sound of it and could understand why Bucky was having so much fun when he was tickling you. You decided to move in towards his belly to see if that was a spot people were ticklish too and Bucky started to laugh harder. 

“Ohohohokay!” Bucky said through his laughter. You immediately stopped not wanting him to be uncomfortable or mad at you. 

Suddenly you were looking up at Bucky because he flipped you over. “Let’s see if your belly is ticklish too.” He smirked and started to tickle your belly, you squealed, squirmed a little harder and laughed a little deeper. “This looks like your most ticklish spot so far. I want to try two more spots and then I will let you go.” You nodded not really wanting him to stop since you were having fun. 

“One spot that is almost ticklish on everyone is their feet.” He grabbed one of your feet and held your ankle is his metal arm. He quickly ran his fingers up and down and your body’s instinct was to kick and you started to laugh helplessly. “This is a good spot too, so far not as good as your ribs but there is still one more place I want to try.” He let your foot go and but pulled your leg so you didn’t have much room to bend your knee. 

“A place that most people don’t think is ticklish is their knees but let’s see if yours are.” Bucky started to squeeze right above your knee you screamed and laughed harder and deeper than any of the other spots. “Looks like your knees are your most ticklish spot Y/N.” He only tickled you here a little longer before letting you go. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Bucky and you both looked to see Steve and Tony standing in the entrance to the living room.

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“We heard Y/N scream and though something was wrong.” 

Bucky laughed again, “No! I was showing Y/N what cuddling is and found out she’s ticklish.” Bucky started to tickle your ribs again, you started to laugh again. “It seems like her ribs are her second most ticklish spot next to her knees.” Bucky started to squeeze your knees again making you frantically kick your legs and belly laugh again.  Bucky stopped again pretty quickly probably not wanting to wear you out too much.

“Looks like she’s almost as ticklish as Peter.” Tony smirked

“Who’s Peter?” you asked. 

#Tickling #tickle #ticklish #tickles #tickle tickle #ticklish!reader #mcu x reader #mcu tickle #tickle mcu #mcu tickle fic #marvel #marvel tickle #tickle marvel #marvel tickle fic #ler!bucky

[yacoka]

SHOOTING STARS

pairing — yamaguchi tadashi x reader

genre — slightly angstish? but overall fluff I think

beta — @doughnuts-5ever​

note(s) — my piece for the to infinity and beyond collab!!

-ˏˋ please reblog if you enjoyed this! ˊˎ-

YEAR ONE

you’re a novice with trembling hands and a shaky stance. the weight of the bow is unforgiving, the string cruel, cutting deep into your fragile skin. the wind blows harshly, and you’re not entirely sure what, nor where the target is. so there you remain, eyes closed and bow drawn, snapped arrows scattered all around.

first days of anything are never easy, not when you’re entering a new phase of life, into a new environment all alone. sometimes it gets eased by the people around you, the friends you make. sometimes it doesn’t.

your first day of highschool stretches on for almost half a year, and you’re still where you’ve started - alone and lonely.

it has never been easy for you to make friends, and it certainly didn’t help you didn’t really know how to. you suppose it’s partly due to the fact that you could never decide on what to say and what time to say it. too many conversations had been killed by your ill-timed inputs, and eventually, you stopped trying.

loneliness is not a foreign companion, and you’d like to think you’ve made good friends with it. but it leans a little too heavy on you, every step takes a little more effort. it wraps its arms around you like a lover, whispering in your ears as you watch the group of teenagers in front of you push each other around, joking and laughing and having fun.

your head dips a little lower and your shoulders slump a little more. it’s just another day; another long, lonely day. you’ll be okay.

or maybe not.

a hard shove has you flying backwards, and you yelp in shock and fear. wide eyes meet yours and a hand reaches out to grab your arm, stabilizing you.

“hinata, you idiot!” a voice rages, and it snaps out of the shock-induced haze you’ve settled into.

“are you alright?” the boy in front of you asks, and you register who exactly it is that’s still holding your hand. his hazel eyes are filled with concern, and you can’t help but get distracted by the stray strand of green hair standing up.

“i- uh, yeah-” you stumble out. the warmth of his hand is distracting, and maybe you’ve been out of touch with talking to people for far too long. “fine.”

he eyes you worriedly, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he nods and lets go of you. “i’m so sorry about my friend, we were just messing around, and it got a little… out of hand.”

“it’s fine,” you shake your head lightly. “i’m okay, it’s-”

“i’m so sorry, are you okay?” another boy jumps right into your face, all pink-faced and messy red hair. “i didn’t mean to run you over, kageyama just bet me i couldn’t run backwards, i’m so sorry-”

he’s yanked back by another boy, this one taller than the previous two. “i’m sorry about this one, he’s lacking a few brain cells tonight.” he shoots you a bland smile before dragging the redhead away, another boy following after them.

“you’re sure you’re fine?” he asks you once more.

“i am, don’t worry,” you smile at him reassuringly. “i should get going, thank you for catching me.” without waiting for his response, you bow quickly, speeding off home.

you know it means nothing to him, but you remember how good it felt to have someone be concerned, to feel like someone cared. it's a fleeting thought, but you thought, just maybe, he could be someone to you.

you’ve only just begun to familiarise yourself with the bow, and you’re a far cry from a perfect shot. you’re still a little lost, beaten and bruised by the harsh snaps of the bow’s string. but you’re learning, and the arrows aren’t as cruel as they once were. they too, have learnt to have patience with you. you shift your feet, and you wait.

it’s almost the end of the year when one of your classmates approaches with a nervous smile.

“hey, y/n right?” she smiles politely. you know of her presence, the blonde girl reminiscent of wild daisies along the road with a sweet spring personality to match. she’s even prettier up close, and you can’t help but panic a little at the realization that you don't know her name.

how could you have shared a class with her for almost a year and not know her name?

“i’m sorry, i must’ve got your name wrong! please forgive me! i was so sure you were y/n, i shouldn’t have made assumptions, please forgi-”

“no, no, i am y/n!” you cut her off quickly. “that’s my name.” a nervous chuckle slips out of you.

“oh,” her shoulders slump in relief. “that’s good. i’m yachi! yachi hitoka.”

“uh, hi yachi.” you greet her, awkwardly shifting on your feet. this interaction had been going on for longer than you were prepared for, and you were very well aware of how bad your conversational skills were, especially without preparation. thankfully, yachi seemed to get the hint and gets to the point immediately.

“i’m one of the managers for the volleyball club, and shimizu, the senior volleyball manager, is graduating soon, and we’ll need another manager to help us out. do you think you’ll be interested in joining us?”

the very idea of helping out a club, where you had to interact with numerous people, for the next few years, was in short, terrifying. but it was as if yachi could see the very thoughts floating through your mind, and she was quick to add on, “i know it seems really intimidating! i thought so too when i first joined. but everyone was really welcoming, and i think you’d be a great fit. please just consider it?”

at her hopeful smile, you couldn't say no, not without causing that adorable expression to fall. so without thinking, you blurt out a yes, you'll try out being a manager for a week. the grin that yachi gives you almost makes the nerves that follow worth it.

you somehow find yourself outside the gym after school, nervously listening to the squeaking of shoes and slamming of balls. a couple of minutes passed, and you gathered your scattered bits of courage into a tight fist, holding on to it for dear life as you push open the doors.

you’re instantly greeted by yachi, who as it turns out, was about to go and find you.

“hey, y/n! this is shimizu, she’s the senior manager.” you smile politely at her, introducing yourself. it doesn’t take long for the rest of the volleyball club to notice your intrusion.

“who’s this?” a grey-haired boy sticks his head over shimizu’s shoulder. she elbows him back lightly before introducing you to the boys who had been quick to gather around the entrance.

it was intimidating, the stares that were locked onto you, analyzing you. you weren’t used to this much attention, and your discomfort was clear as you shifted nervously on your feet, eyes darting around in slight panic. it ran from face to face, hurriedly try to connect the names that were being thrown out. tanaka, asahi, nishinoya, hinata, yamaguchi-

yamaguchi.

you gaped a little at the overly familiar face standing in front of you. that was the boy that had saved you the night before. and that must mean- yes there were the others, the one who ran you over, and the over two who had barely exchanged a few words before leaving.

(no, your shoulders did not relax slightly at their familiar faces. and no, your heart rate certainly didn’t raise at the sight of yamaguchi. you were perfectly composed, as much as you could be under the scrutiny of so many people.)

the polite smile you give is accompanied with a slight bow, and as you greet them officially, your eyes lingers a little longer upon the green-haired boy. maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something else, something new.

YEAR TWO

the target finally comes into view, with black and green circles that surround a pulsing, bright red. for the first time you see something with stunning clarity, and you know where you need to aim for. your arms raise in preparation, the arrow poised, and you wait.

it’s been a little over six months since you’ve joined the volleyball club as their manager, and yet it feels like forever as you sit with your fellow second years below the large oak tree in the courtyard. there’s a soft murmur of conversation and laughter, mixed in with a little bit of chaos as hinata and kageyama get up to their usual schemes.

yachi reels them in just enough to keep things from exploding, though tsukishima certainly doesn’t help anything with his snarky jabs and snickers. you laugh once again as he throws another passive-aggressive comment at the two, leaning against yamaguchi’s side.

the contact leaves sparks jumping across your skin, and the circus comes to life within you. yamaguchi doesn’t seem to notice how affected you are, in fact even seeming to shift so you could lean on him more comfortably. no one notices anything, or so you think until yachi makes eye contact with you. she gives you a knowing look, and you flush deeply, pulling yourself upright.

(you miss the slight downturn of yamaguchi’s lips when you do so, and the subconscious shift of his body following yours.)

you manage to tame the turbulence of emotions within you, and with a fond smile, you watch your little group of friends as they chatter on about everything and anything. it’s sharp contrast from last year, where you were alone and lonely.

now, you had a group of people who you loved and cared for, and who loved and cared for you in return. it’s another day filled with laughter and joy, with burdens to be shared, and company to be had. you’re grateful for them, for all that they’ve brought into your life, even the chaos that trail behind them.

loneliness wasn’t foreign to you, but it also wasn’t as close of a friend as it used to be. instead, these five had filled the void it was so determined to maintain, and they pushed you to grow as they did, to aim for higher heights, even when it seemed impossible.

and as yamaguchi smiles at you when you try and fail to catch the grape that hinata pelts at you, you realize, the warmth you once so desperately sought now curls in the corner of your chest, hidden behind your ribcage.

you had them now, and they had you.

even with a clear target, you can’t seem to take the shot. it’s frustrating, and your arms ache from being held up for so long, your fingers bloodied. the bowstring is stained red with your aching failure, and you’re sure your limbs have gone numb from being frozen for too long. but still, you maintain your position, set in determination.

there’s a running tally in the club room of who gets the most confessions out of the second years, and at the very moment, yachi takes the lead with eight. it’s a wonder it isn’t more, though you know there have been many who had been scared off by the boys.

(tsukishima and kageyama, to be exact. hinata and yamaguchi were much too friendly to ever be seen otherwise.)

and it looks like there’s another score to be added to the tally as you watch a freshman approach yamaguchi, one hand holding a letter and the other a box of chocolates. he greets her with a bright smile, and the sight sends dull, rusted arrows into your heart. it isn’t the first time he’s been confessed to, though it still hurts the same every time.

you can’t help the bitter smile that rests on your lips as you watch them. there’s a mixture of admiration and anger that bubbles in your chest; admiration for the courage the girl had to confess, anger for not being able to do the same. there’s a box that sits beneath your bed containing a bunch of letters you’ve written to him, though none of them have ever made it out of your possession.

it’s horrible of you, you know, to enjoy the look on their faces when yamaguchi turns them down, and the sick relief that settles your jealousy.

Today though, your heart drops into your stomach when yamaguchi accepts the chocolates, something he’s never done before. was he accepting her confession? a warm hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, whirling around to see tsukishima staring down at you.

“he didn’t,” the blond says firmly, his hand still firmly planted on your shoulder. “he won’t.”

biting back the tears that threaten to fall, you nod your head shakily. but the sight that greets you when you turn back around taunts you with deafening doubts you’re not sure tsukishima can quell.

“how can you be so sure,” you whisper quietly. “he looks happy enough with her, doesn’t he?”

tsukishima remains silent as yamaguchi pulls out of the hug, but his grip tightens, and you know he’s here for you, no matter what.

YEAR THREE

the target calls out to you, it dares you, it taunts you. but still you remain waiting, no matter how much your arms ache, how heavy the bow feels, how painful your fingers are. the tension’s drawn too taut, but you’re no stranger to it. you’ll hold, you’ll persevere on. you won’t shoot until it’s time.

it’s valentine’s day, and there’s a flurry of activity as people rush around trying to profess their love to someone. there’s a mess of chocolates flying and candies scattered around with a few people fighting to gift their present first. you’ve never been a fan of the chaos that valentine’s day brings, and there’s an underlying bitterness that comes from never being on the receiving end.

fighting through the crowd that had formed outside yamaguchi and tsukishima’s class, you managed to squeeze through the doorway. someone grabs your arm and yanks you further into the classroom, and it is only due to spending so much time together that you know it’s kageyama.

his grip was always gentle, but firm enough to guide you around.

“hey guys!” you grin cheerily at them. “so who’s got the most goods this time round?”

hinata raises his hand proudly. “i got three more chocolates than kageyama, suck on that!” he sticks his tongue out at kageyama.

kageyama scowls, grabbing one of the chocolates at the table and pelting it straight at hinata’s forehead. “just you wait, i’ll beat you by the end of today.”

“how much did you get y/n?” yachi cuts in gracefully, smiling at you from behind her pile of sweets. “i bet many people confessed to you, huh?”

you grin weakly at her. “none, actually. i don’t really talk to anyone outside of you guys.”

she frowns slightly at this. “well, that’s alright! do you want some of mine? i won’t be able to finish it all. too many sweet things isn’t good for me anyways.”

“no, that’s alright. thanks yachi.”

yamaguchi yelps suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention upon him. he’s scowling at tsukishima, rubbing his side in pain while the blond smirks in faux innocence.

“yamaguchi, are you okay?” your question has him flushing a violent red as he turns his gaze upon you.

“ye-yeah! i’m fine, tsukki just got a little handsy is all,” he waves a dismissive hand. you don’t miss the subtle glare tsukishima shoots him, as well as the hand that sneaks another pinch into his side. “also!” yamaguchi’s smile tightens. “i made some chocolates for you!” he thrusts out a black box tied off with a red ribbon.

your brows raise as you exchange an appreciative look with kageyama.

“for us? thank you yamaguchi, you’re the best!” hinata dives for the box, and snatches it out of his hands. he’s quick to delve into it, sounds of appreciation falling from his chocolate covered lips as he devours a good third of it.

“they weren’t for- nevermind, save some for the others hinata,” yamaguchi sighs exasperatedly.

“aye aye captain,” hinata replies with a salute. “these are really good!”

you also don’t miss the way yamaguchi keeps glancing at you, nor the flush that refuses to subside after you complimented his chocolates. though you refuse to feed into the voice that whispers to your heart that he likes you, he likes you just as much as you do him, you have a chance, a real shot here, you can’t help the flutter your heart gives in response.

the crowd begins to disperse into clusters of families and friends, and you fight your way through them to find your friends. you take three elbows to the chest and a couple near accidents before you find them standing under your usual tree.

“we did it!” you greet them breathlessly, throwing yourself onto the nearest person in a hug. the rest join in, and you’re surrounded by some of the best people in your life who have made memories worth keeping, who have helped you fly.

it takes a long while before the hug dissolves into slight tears and messy thanks and goodbyes. before you even realized what had happened, only you and yamaguchi were left standing alone beneath the tree, the other four having been caught by other friends wanting to say goodbye.

“so,” you smiled at him through watery eyes. “this is it.”

he grins at you, and it hits you how much you feel for him. you wished you had more time, more courage, more of him. what you would give to be able to say the words that have resided in your heart for a long time. i love you, i love you, i love you. you are made of the night sky, of stars that shine so bright, peace that brings so much joy. you are my wishing star, and there’s nothing else i’d wish for than you.

but you stay silent, a prisoner to your fear, chained by the doubts that have never left. instead, you do the only thing that doesn’t require speaking, one action that speaks of the thousand words you’d like to say - you offer him your second button.

yamaguchi’s grin widens into a smile, filled with hope and something too complex to be defined by words. his hand reaches out, shaking ever so slightly, and he offers his to you as well. it takes a moment for you to comprehend his silent response, and another before you slide your hand into his, your buttons clasped between both your hands.

his hand is rough from years of volleyball, but you find you don’t mind it when his free hand slides up to cup your cheek. it’s a tender gesture, and you melt into his touch.

“we took a while, didn’t we?” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

“just a while,” you hum, shifting even closer to him. “but it’s worth it.”

your arrow flies, and it flies and flies, and it lands. it lands with a gloriously solid thud, dead center of your target. you’re a far cry from a professional, but your shot has finally landed, and you’ve won more than a bullseye.

you’ve won love.

#haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi x reader

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“School Life:” A Hoodie Season AU Prequel

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Hwang Hyunjin (SKZ)

Genre: Married Life AU (Hoodie Season Prequel)

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Mild Language

Summary: When Y/N is hired as the librarian at her former high school, she isn’t exactly thrilled to return. Of course, there’s also the issue of the persistent dance teacher who seems determined to win her affections.

Here’s a funny story: imagine promising yourself that you’d attend college, nail an awesome degree, and then find a job making six figures on an annual basis, only to return home with a teaching license to work at the same school that you attended when you were 16 while making less than acceptable.

Yeah, life had a funny way of making a joke out of itself, and the punch line is never really that good. 

But there wasn’t time for me to complain about my prospects since I had been unemployed for six months with a lousy degree in literature that led to absolutely nothing. In desperate times, we’re often forced to do things that we hate, and I was certainly disenchanted with the idea of working in a high school library surrounded by horny and immature devils all the time. 

“Good morning, Y/N!”

Oh, and I also had to deal with one of the most annoyingly persistent men on a regular basis. “What do you want, Hyunjin?”

Despite my dismissive tone, Hyunjin still leaned in across the check-out counter, and I could feel his eyes staring at my ass. “It’s my free period.”

“And?”

“And...you should come have coffee with me,” Hyunjin said, and I finally turned around to endure his flirtatious smile. It had only been two months since the start of the semester, and a grand total of two weeks since Hyunjin had first started trying his luck with me. But I was beginning to think that he didn’t know how to take a hint. 

“I’m busy with paperwork,” I said, ignoring his crestfallen expression. However, in my defense, I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I was far too preoccupied with my own self-loathing to entertain his advances.

“Again?” he pouted, giving me a look that I’m sure won the heart of any girl that he had the chance to impress.

It was too bad that they didn’t work on me. 

“Bye, Hyunjin,” I said, giving him a cheeky smile before disappearing into my office.

The next morning, I noticed that Bang Chan, one of the upperclassman teachers, had arranged to pick up some books for his students. It required some set-up on my end with the computer system, and I was completing the necessary paperwork when Chan walked into the library. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Bang,” I greeted him in return. “I brought an empty cart for your request.”

“Perfect!” Chan smiled, walking around the counter to pull the cart towards the surrounding bookshelves.

I watched him from the corner of my eye while inputting the final codes for my spreadsheet. “Is this for a class project?”

Chan lifted his head from where he was examining a nearby book display. “Oh! Yeah, the kids like it when we do this kind of stuff. Well, I mean, they don’t like reading so much, but it’s better than tests.”

I nodded my head because I could certainly appreciate that considering some of the more stringent high school examinations that I recalled from my teenage years. “The school wants me to read you this long and boring list of protocols after you check-out something.”

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off with a chuckle. “Do you want to do it now...or?”

I grinned, closing out one of the tabs on my computer screen before joining Chan by the bookshelves. This close, I could appreciate the subtle scent of his cologne and his easygoing smile. “I think we can just skip it,” I said, raising a brow. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

“You’ll let me off easy, Y/N?” Chan asked, turning around with a knowing look and I reveled in our simple flirtation. 

“Since you’ve been so nice,” I said, breaking off when I heard the door to the library open again.

“There you are!” Hyunjin announced his presence, waltzing over to the two of us without a single care in the entire world. “How can I last all day without seeing this smile?”

I sighed when said smile disappeared. “What did you do before I came here?”

“It was a lonely workplace,” Hyunjin said, and I noticed the way that he had positioned himself between me and Chan.

“Anyway,” Chan continued, attempting to speak over Hyunjin despite his unexpected presence. “As a thank you, Y/N, would you like to come to the school’s basketball game this Friday? I coach the men’s team, and we’re undefeated this year.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s basically a tradition,” Hyunjin intervened, sending Chan a look. “The boys love the support from their teachers.”

“But Hyunjin, you don’t even-”

“You’ll come, right?” Hyunjin asked, interrupting Chan’s train of thought. In return, the older man merely shrugged before occupying himself with the task of stacking the books that he required onto the cart. 

I studied Hyunjin’s beaming expression because, in all honesty, it was one of the very last things that I wanted to do, but it seemed unusually important - which meant that a small part of me was quite curious. “I guess I can try and clear some time,” I said with a shrug.

Hyunjin’s smile was impossibly large, and he leaned against Chan’s cart like he wanted to look as cool and laid-back as possible. “You know, Y/N,” he started. “I think you and I share a lot in common.”

“I doubt that,” I said with a tense smile.

“We both care a lot about our students,” Hyunjin said, and I tried not to laugh because Hyunjin couldn’t begin to imagine just how much I didn’t want this particular job on my resume. “We’re also good-looking people.”

The comment was shallow, and I didn’t feel that impressed by his attempt to compliment me. Meanwhile, Chan snorted around a laugh as he pushed his cart back, nearly sending Hyunjin sprawling into the floor. “I have things to do,” Chan said, excusing himself politely while a flustered Hyunjin tried to play off his decidedly uncool moment.

“If only your students were around to see this...” I trailed off with a distracted sigh, leaving Hyunjin behind spluttering out nonsensical words while I returned to the sanctity of my private office.

On Friday night, I parked my car near the back of the school before entering the loud and unusually crowded gymnasium where, for just a split second, I almost considered walking back out the door. It smelled like sweat and dirty laundry, and the bleachers looked uncomfortable, especially since everyone was forced to sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “What fresh hell is this?” I grumbled, shouldering off my jacket since I definitely wouldn’t need it.

I proceeded to walk around the proximity of the gym, searching for familiar faces. I spotted Chan standing on the sidelines with another teacher (Changbin, maybe?) before I realized that someone was calling my name from behind me. I turned around to greet Han Jisung, one of the Freshman English teachers, and he pointed to a section where I recognized several other staff members. “You can join us if you want,” Jisung said and I nodded my agreement.

He led us through the crowd of eager fans, keeping an eye on me as I teetered precariously on the old bleachers wearing high heels that I definitely regretted. But at the very top, I could see some familiar faces, including one that appeared far more eager than the rest. “Oh, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “I’m glad to see you. It’s nice to have the teachers support our teams.”

“You never come to the basketball games,” Felix said, and Hyunjin shot him a silencing glare.

“What are you talking about, Felix?” Hyunjin asked with wide eyes. “I always support the school.”

“Sure,” Seungmin snorted as if he was simply placating Hyunjin’s obvious fabrication.

“Yeah, I heard it was something else,” I said, taking a seat next to Han before turning my attention to the game.

I wasn’t a big sports fan by any means, and I struggled to make sense of the chaos that included a bunch of teenage boys running up and down the court wearing their brightly-colored uniforms. Sometimes a whistle blew or the shot clock made a truly horrible sound when the buzzer went off to conclude the end of game-time. Otherwise, I felt utterly confused as I sat back and nodded when one of the other teachers surrounding me made a comment that I certainly didn’t understand.

When the game reached halftime, Hyunjin immediately stood up from his seat, starting down the staircase as he chanced a look back over his shoulder. “They have refreshments outside,” he said to me. “My treat?”

I placated him with a nod, following him into the slowly forming crowd attempting to migrate outside of the gymnasium where the smell of pizza and nachos was especially prominent. Hyunjin and I stood at the back of the line, and I swallowed down a feeling of claustrophobia. Meanwhile, I hadn’t noticed that Hyunjin was looking at me until he finally made his voice audible over the white noise of the surrounding crowd. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Hyunjin said, giving me, what I assumed, was his best attempt at a humble expression. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to offend you...”

“It’s not so much that,” I said. “But it’s tiresome to see you put so much effort into flirting with me.”

“Oh...” Hyunjin said, clearing his throat awkwardly, but he also seemed hurt by my admission. “I’m not, like, some kind of serial dater or something. I genuinely thought you were interesting when we met at the teacher’s conference for the first time.”

“You did?” I asked, studying this vulnerable version of Hyunjin with close scrutiny.

“Yeah.” He nodded, adjusting the beanie hugging the crown of his hairline. “I’m kinda bad at this type of thing, but you’re different from the others. I think you and I both know that’s not always a bad thing, and I was hoping that you might at least give me one tiny little chance at a date.”

I gave him my full attention then, and I found myself taken aback by the look of earnest interest reflecting back at me in warm swirls of brown. “Okay,” I said, deciding that it couldn’t possible hurt to give him an opportunity. “But do me a favor and at least have a better excuse the next time you come into the library,”

Hyunjin had the decency to blush, and I couldn’t help but smile as we took another step forward.

It was Saturday evening when Hyunjin picked me up in front of my small apartment complex. I settled next to him in the front seat, smiling in his direction when he extended a tentative greeting. “How are you, Y/N?” he asked, and I was surprised to hear a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“I’m good,” I said. “But what’s this surprise all about, Hyunjin?”

“No spoilers,” Hyunjin said, and he seemed to regain some semblance of his former confidence as we drove down the crowded city streets in the direction of the main interstate.

“Well, I expect something classy since you made such a big deal about dressing up for the occasion,” I said, reaching down to smooth my hands along the hemline of my skirt.

“I don’t know much about you,” Hyunjin admitted. “But I had a friend give me some advice.”

“Dating advice?” I questioned, smirking in his direction. “You must not go on very many dates.”

“Not really,” Hyunjin remarked. “Despite what you might be thinking, it’s never been a big thing for me.”

I contemplated his words, watching as he drug his bottom lip between his teeth to worry the skin. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin said. “I guess I’m not very good at making connections with people. I’ve been told that I can come on too strong.”

I laughed at the honest assessment. “Maybe you just need more practice.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin agreed. “But is that okay with you? I mean, now that you know that I don’t have any idea about what I’m doing.”

“I think it’s more exciting,” I told him. “It also explains why you’re flirting was so over the top at the beginning of the semester.”

Hyunjin groaned as if embarrassed by the reminder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, reaching across the console to take his willing hand. “If you were quiet, then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Hyunjin let out a shaky exhale, studying me for a moment from the corner of his eye. “I want to make a better impression on you, Y/N.”

“Trust me,” I said with a smile. “The impression I already have of you is quite persuasive.”

Hyunjin nodded, and a comfortable silence proceeded before he fumbled with the buttons on the radio to allow some music to accompany the remainder of our drive together. It was something techno and upbeat - the kind of thing that just made sense to me because I knew that he was a dance teacher. But in any case, I only really started to pay attention when I noticed that we had somehow entered the more upscale part of the city. 

Maybe Hyunjin was really doing his best to impress me.

“Here we are,” Hyunjin said, pulling into a parking spot lining the side of a very familiar building.

I realized immediately that it was the opera house which meant that the Hwang Hyunjin had brought me to a pretentious affair that certainly held no appeal to someone like myself. But I tried to keep my smile, nodding at him while he handed our tickets over to the attendant. Meanwhile, at the back of my head, all I could think about was the fact that Hyunjin might’ve been trying too hard with our first date. Especially as I observed the expensive theater.

“I heard it’s a classic,” Hyunjin whispered to me after we found our seats in the middle of the enormous crowd.

“Great,” I murmured back, trying not to feel so out of place.

Instead, I focused on the show in front of me, clapping along with everyone else because I had no idea when it was actually appropriate to do so. In fact, I was forced to laugh even though I couldn’t figure out what was funny, and I shifted uncomfortably when the older gentleman next to me started crying during one of the scenes. Apparently, the gathered crowd of patrons had rehearsed all of this before attending the show, and I was left pretending to understand the social cues that the others had already memorized.

It was actually rather draining, and I forced a smile at Hyunjin when he looked down at me. “You’re not having fun,” Hyunjin finally said during intermission.

“What do you mean?” I asked, but I wasn’t nearly as convincing of an actress as the people on stage.

Hyunjin sighed. “Honestly, Y/N, do you even like this?”

I swallowed hard, struggling under the scrutiny of his gaze. “It’s...alright?”

Hyunjin grinned, but it didn’t seem genuine. “Come on,” he said, rising from his seat. “I don’t think we’ll be missing out by leaving early.”

I reluctantly took Hyunjin’s outstretched hand, allowing him to pull me down the aisle before we trudged through the crowded lobby and into the refreshing night air. The parking lot was still full of cars, and Hyunjin had parked us somewhere near the back since we weren’t aware of the necessity of arriving to these shows several hours before start time. But I didn’t mind the walk because I was trying to think of something to say to a downtrodden Hyunjin who paused next to his car.

“Look,” I finally said with an endeared smile. “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”

“I screwed everything up,” Hyunjin said, and I was sad to see that he was genuinely upset as he leaned against the side of his car.

“No, you didn’t, Hyunjin,” I tried to tell him, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“I really like you,” Hyunjin said. “And this felt like my one opportunity to get something right, but I fucked up again.”

I took a deep breath, tilting my head to catch Hyunjin off-guard as I brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “I can tell you have a good heart, and that’s all I care about, okay?”

Hyunjin seemed completely taken aback, and I was worried that I had sent him into some kind of shock, but he allowed one hand to wrap around my waist as he brought us closer. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, and our second kiss was reciprocated by both sides - a tender exchange of out deepest feelings. “Does this mean that I might get a chance at another date?” he asked, looking at me with sincere brown eyes.

“I think you’re worth it,” I told him despite how cheesy it sounded inside my head.

“This makes us official, right?” Hyunjin asked, and I should’ve known better than to expect something normal with him. Doing things by the book with all the cliches involved didn’t really seem like Hyunjin’s kind of thing - and I liked him even more because of it.

“Yeah, if you want labels or whatever,” I grumbled, but his teasing laugh was the best kind of medicine. Needless to say, our first night together was perfect in every way.

#stayverse #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin fanfic #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids writer #stray kids marriage au #mostlycompetent

[light-miracles]

Hello. It's me. I would like to ask you if you could maybe possibly, only if you feel like it write a Taang fic about their first kiss???? Pretty please?

Heey!! Hello heavenly winged pal!

......

Toph usually had no trouble sleeping, but having to spend the night in the Southern Air Temple had gotten on her nerves in unexpected ways she couldn't explain.

Truth be told, no one had wanted to stay in that place. Everyone was concerned about how that might affect Aang. But the night had found them near there on their way to the Southern Water Tribe to visit Hakoda at the end of the Father's Festival. And Aang had insisted that sleeping under a roof would be much more comfortable than in one of Toph's rock tents, especially in the middle of winter. He had said so many times that he was okay that Katara and Sokka hadn't refused.

Naturally, Toph knew he was lying. And Aang also knew that Toph knew he was lying.

So there was Toph, unable to sleep inside her rock tent in the temple gardens. She had steadfastly refused to sleep in one of the old empty bedrooms, the idea of ​​lying on a bed that belonged to Aang's dead friends once too disturbing for her liking. When she realized counting flying bison was not going to work, the teenager simply put the soles of her feet on the ground and enjoyed the vibrations around her. The more she grew up, the more the reach of her seismic sense grew too. Toph knew that if she tried, she could feel vibrations cities away. Perhaps one day her vision would be so powerful that she could see the entire world. But right now she didn't want to see so far away, she wanted to relax.

Appa was sleeping inside the temple on a large gallery, a part of him feeling almost happy to be home. Katara and Sokka were sleeping in the bedrooms, quietly and undisturbed. Momo was in the basement kitchens, looking for some food fossils.

Aang was walking on the roof.

Normally, Toph would have left her friend alone with his own business. But they were in the Southern Air Temple, the place that had once been his home. There was no way being there would make him feel good. And she couldn't sleep. So Toph yawned, stood up, stepped out of her rock tent into the cold winter night, and made up her mind to follow him as quietly as possible.

Toph followed Aang silently, to a spacious balcony in the southern part of the gardens, where there was nothing but a stone statue. Aang stood for a long time in front of the statue, in silence, with what seemed to be flowers in his hands. Toph was about to turn around and go back to her tent when Aang spoke. "You can stay, Toph. I don't mind company."

A small smile of pride adorned her face. "Your seismic sense is improving," she said as she approached her friend.

"I have the best teacher," replied the monk.

Toph stood next to him, in front of the statue. "It's pretty late, Twinkle Toes. Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I needed to clear my chakras," said Aang crossing his arms. "You see, over time I learned that it's not enough to clean them just once. Sometimes they get dirty again and I have to take a moment to meditate and clean them. But the last few days I've been feeling... anxious. So I thought coming here would help."

"It's your air chakra, isn't it? The one blocked by grief."

Aang nodded silently.

"Father's festival?"

Aang nodded again.

Toph should have assumed that was why her friend had been unusually quiet for the past few days. When the festival started, she and her friends had agreed to spend the first few days in Cranefish Town with Iroh and Zuko. Her father was also in town visiting the main Earthen Fire refinery, and she had been able to meet him and have dinner together (and give him a T-shirt that read Bae-Fong with a flying boar wearing sunglasses. Toph wishes she had seen his face). The rest of the festival would be spent with Hakoda, Malina, Kanna and Pakku. Luckily the festival lasted several days and they had had time to meet all of their fathers.

Except for Aang, because he didn't have any.

Toph stood up straight, sensing that she would have to use her imagination and limited social skills to cheer up her friend. "Is this your father?"

"Uh, no. I didn't really have parents. At least not like the rest of you. The monks didn't believe in earthly ties, so we didn't have a concept of parenthood or marriage or family."

"That sounds lonely."

"It wasn't, the entire community was your family. And the children were raised by the older monks," he took a deep breath, perhaps not too used to being asked about his lost culture. "I didn't have a father, but I did have a dad. Gyatso. He raised me," he said with his eyes still fixed on the statue.

Toph stepped forward and placed her hands on the stone face of the statue. "Pff, of course you're not related. This man is handsome."

"He was almost 90 years old and he lacked three teeth!"

"Still more handsome than you."

Aang snorted. "I just wanted to leave flowers." The young monk placed what was effectively a bouquet of flowers on the ground next to the statue. "I buried him under this statue the last time I was here." Toph felt her friend wipe a couple of tears from his eyes, and she tried to think of something to say, but Aang kept talking. "When I came out of the iceberg, I already knew that he was probably dead. But I was hoping that he wasn't. Some people, like Avatar Kyoshi, live for centuries. There was a chance that he and all my friends were alive. But when I got here, they were all..." his voice cracked. "It was my fault, Toph," he said shaking his head. "Gyatso died because I wasn't here to protect him. Every day I wake up and I know that my dad died because of me."

"Stop right there, we both know it wasn't you," said Toph putting her hands on his shoulder, with her not-nonsense voice. "It was the asshole of Zuko's grandfather. And you fixed it, you ended the war."

"But that didn't give me my home back."

Toph shrugged. "No, I guess nothing will. But you know what? Wherever your adoptive father who's much more handsome than you is, he must be quite proud of you being older, badass and a good Avatar. And I know you miss him, but I also know that you're strong enough to rely on your friends when you feel like this. We got your back, baldy." She playfully punched him on the shoulder and left her hand there. "Even if you have to polish your chakras every day."

Aang put his hand over hers. "Thank you."

"I hope I didn't make you feel worse. Katara is better with the feelings stuff."

"No, you said just what I needed to hear. As always. I'm glad you couldn't sleep."

They both laughed for less than a second, their hands still clasped on Aang's shoulder, and then suddenly something clicked in Toph's mind. She could have sworn Aang stiffened as well, the air between them changing inexplicably. Maybe the one to blame were only her hormones, but at that moment she wanted to be closer to him. And she couldn't see, but she could swear that Aang was looking at her without looking away and-

Toph stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and kissed Aang on the lips.

It lasted less than two seconds, before she took a step back. "Damn it," she said, shaking her head. How could she have been so inopportune? Now she would have to swallow her pride and apologize. "Forget it. It was just a-"

Aang leaned in and kissed Toph fully on the lips again, holding her hand on his shoulder. The kiss lasted a couple of seconds longer than the last one, and yet it seemed to last too little. "No problem. We're even now," he said, taking a step back again.

Toph felt that annoying heat on her cheeks again. "I think I should leave you alone. You have chakra maintenance to do and I should go to sleep."

"Alright," Aang nodded, looking through her as always and knowing that she needed space to process what had just happened. Or pretend it hadn't happened. Toph was unpredictable. "Good night, Sifu Toph."

She didn't reply and hurried out of his presence, on her way back to her tent. Aang took a moment to close his eyes and use his seismic sense. Her heart was pounding very fast. He almost felt guilty, evidently Toph wouldn't sleep much in that state.

When he opened his eyes, the statue of Gyatso was still there, but the pain was no longer deep like a knife in his heart. It had reduced to a background noise that did not prevent him from breathing in peace. "I've wanted to do that for a long time, Gyatso. At least to shut her up from time to time. Sometimes she talks too much," said Aang with a smile. "You know? I know the air nomads are gone forever, but I'm not alone. I have Toph and my friends. And I'll always have you in my heart as well." Aang bowed in front of the statue. "Happy father's festival, Dad."

Maybe Toph had shown him the secret formula to clear the pain. Love.

#Prompts open #Taang #Atla #avatar the last airbender #Toph bei fong #Toph beifong #Avatar aang #Aang #Gyatso

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 26)

word count: 5k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 25) (series masterlist)

you had spent the first half of the night crying. full on ugly crying, tears streaming down your cheeks and your sobs muffled into whichever boy was comforting you at the time.

mingi had proved to be the rational one. still sweet and gentle in the way he comforted you but also trying to get some coherent words and thoughts out of you. "you need to talk to us so we can help you, y/n. you'll feel better then."

but yunho understands that sometimes, crying it all out helps. that getting all of your hurt and anguish out in the form of sobbing is sometimes the way. thought his heart does hurt thinking about how much you've cried these past months, surprised that you have any tears left in you.

though how can you not?

with seonghwa's brokenness and dejected spirit in your mind. the way he drank himself into his most vulnerable state and confessed to how lonely he's been these past months.

with the way yeosang had acted so defensively and didn't seem to trust you. how neither of you contacted each other and now left you with the feeling that everything might be over.

for your own self, how you feel so much guilt and sadness for both of the boys. how the pit in your stomach is only grower larger and larger, feeling like after all of this time, you still haven't made a choice.

the choice you thought you made the second you decided to date yeosang, if the way you were just a second away from telling the boy you loved him was any indication. but now the way he reacted hurt you, him throwing your obvious confusion and past mistakes in your face so easily.

because while you don't believe kissing either of them was a mistake, being more open and honest in the first place might've saved everyone a little bit of trouble. the trouble that now you can't help but feel responsible for.

"it wasn't only you," mingi's quick to say, his large hands dabbing at your wet cheeks. "yeosang knew of seonghwa's feelings and seonghwa came on way too strong the second he met you."

it's words you've heard the boy say multiple times and usually, they slightly comforted you. but now it only makes your heart tug at the awfully messy situation this all had become. you think the worst part is that it could've destroyed a friendship, had yeosang and seonghwa not already been through so much together.

your tears finally stop after a few more softly spoken words from mingi but eventually his blunt and abrupt "enough fucking crying, y/n," snapping you out of your pity and shameful breakdown.

yunho eyes snap to the boy, his face twisting into one of shock. "mingi..." the boy says lowly, his eyes softening as he looks at the boy in disapproval.

"i'm not being a dick, y/n," he says, wiping at your wet cheeks one more time before taking your hand in his. "i'm just so sick of seeing you cry over this."

"and you think i'm not?" you whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down to not alert your parents. "i don't know wh-what to do. i still don't know what to do, mingi. i've had fucking months to get it together and i'm still sitting here crying like an idiot. i'm toying with both of them like a selfish bitch and both of them are gonna tell me-"

"stop," yunho says, his deep, commanding voice causing your eyes widen; you've never heard him talk like that. he rises from your chair in the corner and sits on the other side of you, placing his arm around you and tugging you into his broad chest.

"listen to me. you're not gonna call yourself that again. we're gonna talk everything out even if it means staying up all night to get your head on straight again. okay?" he eyes mingi who's watching both of them carefully, smiling softly at the boy as if to say that's how you approach a crying teenage girl.

the three of you talk until your throat is raw, explaining to them how much it hurt you to see seonghwa like that. how you couldn't physically leave him at a bar drunk and upset when you knew you were to blame; and even if you weren't to blame, you couldn't allow that.

"but like i told yeosang, i would've done that for anyone. like if it was one of you, obviously. so i don't know why he had to throw that in my face!"

mingi and yunho smile softly at you, one of their large hands coming up to pat down your messy hair.

"i know, sweetling. he knows that too," yunho tells you, "he probably just felt threatened and scared."

"but why?" you cry out, looking at the boys with a baffled expression. "i was literally about to tell him i love him and now he's upset that i went to pick up our fri-"

"wait, what?" they both blurt out, yunho's eyes lit up with happiness and surprise as mingi's mouth is dropped into an o shape.

"yeah," you say, nodding your head a shy smile makes it way on your face; you suppose you'd never said that out loud before. "i really felt like i was ready to say it, especially on our trip together. but now with this, i don't-"

"one fight doesn't mean you don't love him anymore," mingi says, "you either love him or you don't."

you take a moment to think about his words, remembering all your good moments with yeosang. from both ski trips and your time at school and on all of your dates and times at his house.

and you think, even given the way you guys first met an were with each other, that the good outweigh the bad. he brings out a spark in you that you were always too scared and timid to show. he pushes you to go out of your comfort zone and will tell you things you need to hear even if they're harsh.

"i-i do," you eventually find yourself saying, a happy feeling fluttering in your stomach as you admit it aloud.

because when it comes down to it, if you guys broke up over this, you'd be devastated. if you guys broke up at all, you couldn't imagine seeing him and being okay with not talking to him, not going home without him and never being able to laugh with him on his couch.

"okay, good," yunho says with a smile. "that was one of the two things we have to settle." the blonde looks at mingi with a leading look, the redhead rolling his eyes slightly at his....friend.

"why do you make me say the hard stuff," mingi growls.

"because you're the mean one. i'm the nice, soft spoken one."

you giggle when see mingi's eyes narrow at him, affection and care even obvious in his 'angry' expression.

you know tonight is a time for you to get your shit together, so everyone can move on from this and maybe every interaction won't be these two boys comforting you. but you can't wait for the moment you can finally ask them what's been going on between them.

because you know it's something.

"whatever," mingi says, the growl in his voice not all that biting or scary before he turns to look at you. you see his eyes soften as he looks over your face, bringing his hand down to rest atop yours again.

"but then we have to ask, what about seonghwa? do you love him too?"

you lick at your lips anxiously, almost wanting to laugh at this. because you're just a group of teenagers sitting in your bedroom at 2 am, crying and talking about love like you guys know anything at all. but it truly feels like everything is so intense and serious; because what love is more passionate than those of naive high schoolers?

your mind wracks over the not so simple question for a few minutes. you think about your memories with seonghwa and the pang in your heart tells you you care deeply for the boy and the memories he's given you. you love that he was there for you and helped you and was kind to you.

but that might be the difference. the cliche, well-known idea of loving someone versus being in love with someone. but that feels like the only way to describe yourself in this situation. describe why not a single part of you wants to hurt seonghwa, why you've maybe been dragging your feet through all of this and finding it so incredibly hard to deal with.

because even after tonight, you don't wanna make the choice. consider what seems like the most obvious choice in the universe but knowing that's not what you want. because who wouldn't pick seonghwa? it seems as if right now, you should be leaning towards him.

but the way your eyes well up with tears is the first indication to everyone in the room that, while you might love him, it's not the way you love someone else.

so the second half of the night is spent coming to terms with his decision, laying right in the middle of yunho and mingi as you tell them about the first time you met seonghwa and how much he helped you in 4th period. how pretty much before you could defend yourself or say something back he was always there. how gentle and delicate and soft he always was with you.

the stories are such sharp contrasts to your beginning ones with yeosang that it should place some doubt in your mind.

but when your eyes are finally threatening to shut, your mind fogging with sleep and drowsiness, your last remaining thought is you hope you wake up to a message from your boyfriend.

and just a few hours later, that's exactly what happens.

the second your eyes snap open, you sit up slowly, yunho's heavy arm around your waist holding you down, before you reach out and grab your phone. it's barely eight in the morning but you already have two messages from yeosang and one from seonghwa, your heart falling into your stomach at the sight.

because both of the boys had said the same thing.

seonghwa:

-> i'm sorry.

yeosang:

-> i'm sorry, baby.

-> can we talk?

you let out a shaky breath, rising out of bed quietly as you pad over to your chair in the corner and decide how to respond. a quiet, almost pained groan leaves mingi's mouth when you click into your messages with seonghwa, looking at the boy with your eyebrows furrowed.

and then your heart nearly explodes when you watch yunho reach out in his sleep, his hand stretching out until it finds mingi's. you can't seem to look away as yunho's thumb unconsciously calms the boy, soft gentle strokes that causes mingi to roll over and move himself closer to him.

it's all so natural and instinctual, you can't stop the tears from pricking your eyes. you're even half tempted to snap a photo but decide against it, wanting to talk to the boy's first before you start taking their photos with the sole purpose of seeing them blush and hide into one another.

you look down at your phone and swallow the lump in your throat, your thumbs twiddling over the screen.

you don't know if he remembers anything he even said, if he only woke to san's concerned gaze who told him a...minute version of what happened. it's why you only respond that it's okay; you wanna say so much more, apologize yourself and assure him that he didn't do anything wrong, but you know now isn't the time.

seonghwa needs time to himself and you need time to talk with yeosang. which is why you respond to his message with a short "yes," his immediate text back asking if he could pick you up.

you text yunho and mingi in your group chat that you went to yeosang's and that your parents still know they're there (you made sure to tell your mom in the event that she walked into your room and saw the two large boys spooning on your bed).

yeosang's familiar car pulls up in front of your house as you sit on the couch with luna, stroking her white fur while trying to consider why you never thought to blame her. because if it hadn't been for her antics, you would've never wound up in seonghwa's backyard. but then she purrs on you and it's all over, petting her neck one more time before shooting up and out your door.

any hesitance and nervousness you feel when you sit down in yeosang's car vanishes the second you close the door. because when you turn around, he pulls you into his arms. it's a slightly awkward hug, given the console in the middle of you, but he couldn't wait any longer after the nightmare that was the past ten hours.

"i'm sorry," you hear his deep voice say quietly, "i'm so sorry for what i said. i was a fucking asshole and i didn't mean any of it."

tears prick at your eyes because of all the scenarios you thought of happening, this was the best possible case. knowing you guys still had things to talk about and feelings to confess but getting apologies and regrets out of the way immediately. not holding on to any anger or animosity.

"i'm sorry, too," you mumble into his neck. "i-it wasn't fair of me to say that and not listen to yo-"

"you don't have to listen to me, you can make your own decisions," he says as he pulls back, taking your face in his hands and running them over your cheeks. "i was just being a fucking pussy and thought you...wanted to be with seonghwa."

your lips can't help but quirk into a smirk at his vulgarity, shaking your head as your gaze meets his head on. he's looking at you so intently, eyes boring right into yours as they hold all the emotion and stress from the long night, even with you now in front of him.

"no," you say softly, shaking your head as you take his hand in yours. "i care about seonghwa but i..." the words are right on the tip of your tongue but you don't think this is the right place to say it. in the car, two seconds after making up from a fight. "i wanna be with you."

he tightens his hold on your hand, bringing it to his mouth to place a chaste kiss on. the smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter and swoop, no hint of the painful knot that was torturing it all night.

"thank god," he sighs out, "i thought...i wanted to..." you watch him struggle with the words and don't know it's for the very same reasons you were just struggling with. "just...thank god."

you smile and lean over to place a peck on his cheek, pulling back and immediately flushing when the low growl of your stomach erupts in the car. he raises his eyebrow playfully at you, your lowly spoken "shut up," causing him to smile.

"how 'bout we get breakfast?"

your breakfast date was fun and relaxed, given the circumstances. he drank half of your juice and you accidentally doused his waffles with too much syrup, both of you swatting playfully at the other. but the second you get to his house and take a seat on his sofa, you know the talk isn't over yet.

because when things are said like that in the moment, it's important to know if those are hidden thoughts that you've been keeping from each other. it's why you're the first to prompt the question and start the conversation, even though you just wanna bury yourself in his chest and take a well-deserved nap.

"does...the fact that i kissed seonghwa still bother you?"

he isn't even thrown off by the question, the sharp inhale he takes more at the reminder he spit that out in a fit of rage. it was that comment that made his blood boil, not at the fact he had to remember that fact, he remembers it everyday because of the impact it once had on you and him and his best friend.

it was more so that he used it against you, knew how much it upset you and how much you struggled with it but still decided to throw in your face. and for that, he's always gonna feel like an asshole.

"no, baby," he says, voice soft and sincere. he sees you give him an unconvinced look, your head cocked to the side with your eyebrow raised. "i'm serious," he continues, "i knew back then that...that was a possibility. in case you forgot, i used to have to watch you and him be all over each other."

your head falls to your chest despite his teasing tone, a tiny sigh leaving your mouth causing him to frown. he places his under your chin to lift your head, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"i was kidding, love. i promise, though, it doesn't bother me. i...only said that to be a dick. because i was feeling threatened and scared."

"like a pussy," you mumble lowly, not being able to control the smirk pulling at your lips. he snorts as he shakes his head, squeezing your face ever so slightly as he does so.

"like a pussy," he agrees, the chuckle that bubbles out of his mouth contagious. but then the laughter stops and his eyes soften, remembering the comeback you said that gave him a hard, aching blow to the heart.

"in case you forgot, he was saving me from you. because you were always the one being an asshole to me and making me cry."

because he couldn't even deny this part of it. he was an asshole and he did make you cry and seonghwa did save you from him every single time. in the library and on the ski trip and even on new years when he fucked up again.

which is why it's baffling to him why you're choosing him. why you're still with him when it's obvious seonghwa should be the one you're with.

"y/n," his deep voice utters quietly, knowing he was gonna speak by the way his eyes were currently roaming your face.

"what?" you squeak, the constant change of the mood today nearly giving you whiplash.

"i'm sorry i was such an asshole to you, in the beginning," he says. because while you guys joke that he's an asshole now, he knows he was an honest to god, true asshole. mean and conniving for no other reason than that that's how he was fighting his feelings for you.

and it's such lousy, juvenile excuse. but it's the truth nonetheless.

"i hate that i've made you cry so much," he hums, trailing his finger across your face gently. you swallow at the delicacy of his touch, warm and familiar and so gentle like he thinks you're gonna break at any moment.

"it's okay, yeosang," you mumble, your glossy eyes meeting his as you feel your throat grown thick with emotion. "i-i know you had your reasons."

a humorless laugh leaves his mouth as he shakes his head at you, feeling his heart pang again because "no reason would justify it, y/n. i was a dick and you shouldn't let me off the hook so easily."

you narrow your eyes at him, turning your head to the side as you take in his words. "what should i do then?" you eventually ask, "dump you? never forgive you?"

"yeah," he mumbles lowly, feeling in his heart and soul that's what he deserves. he shouldn't get to have you when you have other..suitable options. he shouldn't allow himself to accept your kindness and graciousness and affection. he should tell you to leave him and never look back but, because he's not a suitable option, he's too selfish to say that. "something like that."

"well i don't want to," you say firmly, knowing in that obnoxious little of head of his he's probably making up excuses as to why you should want to. that the way he's treated you should outweigh how is he now and probably some other nonsense about how he shouldn't accept your love. because that's what it is.

"because i love you. and i'd be really sad if you made me break up with you just because you're deciding to be a-"

"what?" he asks, his heart stilling and body freezing at what he thinks he just heard.

"what?" you parrot, trying so hard to contain the smile threatening to pull at your lips. but you can't help it, the look of absolute shock and disbelief on his face is far too funny.

"what did you just say?"

"that i don't want too?" you ask, met with a firm shake of the head.

your eyebrow raises in mock confusion. "that i'd be really sad if you made me-"

"y/n," he says warningly, very much on the verge of passing out or exploding.

your small, teasing giggle rings through the pool house and he'd wanna reprimand you if he wasn't in such a flustered state. because there's no way you said that. he had to have misheard, just hearing what he wants to instead of a very obvious-

"i love you," you repeat, the words still foreign and weird on your tongue. but it feels good to finally say it to him, a sad, sick part of your brain wondering when the last time he heard that was.

"why?" he asks, his mouth slightly agape as he eyes you warily. warily like someone trying to protect themselves, save themselves from being hurt by something that could potentially make them crumble and really break into pieces.

but you have no intention of doing that.

"because i do," you tell him, scooting closer to him to straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. "so don't tell me to break up with you again or not forgive you," you warn, "because i won't listen and you're not the-"

his lips crashing on yours stops the words from leaving your mouth, smiling into the kiss as you pull yourself closer to him. the kiss itself says everything he hasn't yet, his hands coming up to your cheeks and pulling your faces impossibly closer.

you guys have kissed a lot and this is probably the most passionate. no dominating tongues or threats to make you shut up or an underlying notion to tease the other. just your lips connecting and fitting together like it was meant to happen, your giddy smiles and giggles against one another lips eventually being the thing that makes you pull apart.

"i love you, too," he says, his forehead leaning against yours as he tries to catch his breath. "i don't know why you love me but i know for sure that i fucking love you."

your cheeks warm at his words, your stomach and heart fluttering as you bury your face shyly in his neck. because you hadn't thought about how'd you feel hearing the confession back and it's made you a whole lot more flustered than you thought.

"all the things we've done on this couch and that's what it takes to get you shy?" he laughs against your head. you poke at his stomach harshly and he narrows his eyes, pushing you down quickly as a surprised squeal leaves your mouth.

he's hovering above you for a few seconds before your lips collide again, his tongue teasing to slip inside your mouth that you eagerly open for him. your hands travel up to his hair and you pull him closer by the strands, his small groan vibrating against your mouth before he pulls back.

his eyes roam over your red lips and flushed cheeks, your wide eyes looking up at him with such happiness and love he still can't grasp the fact that this his life. can't grasp that fact that someone like you would want, love, someone like him.

"i love you," he blurts out again, your smile widening at his deep voice uttering that word again.

"i love you," you say back, feeling yourself grow shy again. but it only causes him to laugh, his hand reaching out so his finger can graze across your pink cheek.

"i can't believe you said it first," he says in disbelief, feeling confident just yesterday that he was gonna be the one to crack.

"i can't believe you tried to get me to break up with you a second before," you retort, narrowing your eyes at him in disbelief. his hand gently trails along your jaw, running along your parted lips before he taps you on the nose.

"i still wouldn't blame you if you-"

"shut. up." you say, his eyes widening and a smirk on his face at the aggressive way you say. but it's not as aggressive as the way you sit up, push him back and jump right on top of him. he lets out a strangled groan at your weight on him and you can't help but giggle, placing a peck to his lips before you ask if you can take a nap now.

and that's how the rest of the day goes. your body on top of yeosang's, head on his chest while your legs lay between his, as the both of you sleep soundly. you both needed it after the restless night of sleep you'd gotten, far too concerned about fixing your issues and getting back to this very spot.

it's why when you guys wake up hours later, the winter sun already long gone, he asks you to sleepover.

"please, baby," he whines, his voice still deep from sleep and rendering you completely unable to say no. "i need you, tonight. i wanna wake up to you."

you bite your lip at his uncharacteristically sweet words, smiling as you place a peck on his cheek. "you said the l word five hours ago and you've turned into a sap," you tease.

and any other day, he wouldn't allow you to get away with that. but he's feeling far too lucky and sentimental tonight, still half convinced you're gonna turn around and say never mind.

but of course, you don't. instead you agree to sleep over and wiggle excitedly, jumping up to see if he has any popcorn for a movie marathon you guys just have to have.

and at a new personal record, it takes you both until twenty minutes into the third movie to completely abandon it in exchange for a heated make out. you're laid out below him in just his t-shirt, moaning at the feeling of him kissing down your neck and rubbing at your exposed thighs. you push him backwards when it takes him too long to touch you where you want him to, straddling him with ease before you, without hesitance, pull his shirt over your head.

his eyes widen for a second, thrown by the action, before you press your lips back on his. you both are eventually only in underwear, his hardness right under your soaked thong as you rub against him purposefully.

"i-i'm ready, yeosang."

the boy's eyes widen at your words, immediately shooting up like you aren't riding over his leaking cock and making his body pulse with arousal.

"what?" he asks breathlessly, looking over your flushed body and messy hair. "are-are you sure?"

"yes," you tell him eagerly, "i promise."

"baby, if this is because we said i love you it doesn't mean we-"

"it's because i want you to fuck me, yeosang," you tell him, hazy eyes looking right at him as you do so. and that's all he needs to shut off the tv and throw you over his shoulder.

you giggle and smack his back until he throws you down on the bed, pulling at his boxers until his cock springs out of them and his body hovers over yours. he presses a deep kiss to your mouth before he trails down to your hickie-covered neck, licking over each and every one before he latches on to your nipple.

you cry out at the feeling, more wetness pooling between your thighs as you whine his name.

"gotta wait, baby," he says, moving to the other and causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan. "we're gonna do this slow." and slow it was, his lips inching himself further and further down your body until he was finally face to face with your core.

he rubbed his finger over the wet patch, humming in satisfaction when he hears your breathy sigh and quickly takes the waistband between his fingers. you feel yourself exposed to the cold air before his mouth attaches to your clit, your cries and moans of his name only getting louder the more he eats you out.

he sticks a finger in you to stretch you before adding another one, curling them just moments before the flicking and lapping of his tongue makes you scream out as an orgasm rips through your body.

he gives you a second to catch your breath before he's hovering over you again, taking you by the wrists and putting your hands above your head. "are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks gently, bending down to kiss you again. "we don't have to."

"i'm sure," you say, nodding your head with your flushed face and glossy eyes. you can still feel how wet and ready you are for him. "please."

you remember him taking your hands in his and intertwining your fingers as he entered you, the slight sting causing you tighten your hold on him. but then the pain passes and you're whining out again, getting off solely on the feel of him stretching you and his loud grunts echoing through the bedroom.

neither of you hear how the headboard starts smacking against the wall nor the way your moans and grunts and groans get louder and louder as the smacks get more persistent.

you only remember crying each others names at the same time, the feeling of him releasing inside of you the final straw in causing your eyes to roll back into your head. you're slightly aware of him pulling out of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, leaving the bedroom to get a wet cloth and a glass of water.

"are you hurt, love?" you hear him ask, wincing only at the surprise of the warm towel between your thighs.

"no," you tiredly mumble, "good. re-really good." you smile lazily when you hear his laugh bounce off the walls, the bed dipping before his arms wrap around your waist.

"you're right," he mumbles into your skin, loud smacks of his lips kissing you causing you to laugh softly. "really good."

you turn in his hold and smile up at him, mumbling your last "i love you" before your face falls into his chest and sleep finally takes over your body. he mumbles his response over and over again, even when you're sleeping and completely unaware of it.

because he loves you and you love him and it's the first night he's peacefully fallen asleep, with a smile on his face, in this usually very cold, very dark bedroom.

(part 27)

#the way i'm contemplating a yungi spin off #jk aha #unless #seonghwa #yeosang #seonghwa angst #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa series #ateez series

[swimyghost]

Possum Chemistry

A backstory about Martha and Steve nobody asked for yet here we are. Rubi and Marie belong to @self-insert-nonsense so fuck yeah.

---

Rubi grunted as she tossed the garbage bag into the bin. She rolled his shoulder a few times before making her way back to the painting awaiting her in her studio.

He can work with dead bodies but garbage? Noooo, that's too 'unhygienic'. 

She sighed. Rubi genuinely loved her husband despite all the crimes against humanity that took place in their shed on a daily basis and the aura of superiority he always liked to exude, but his lack of care for basic household chores was starting to get on her nerves.

She opened the backdoor to get back inside when he heard a pair of happy squeaks. Rubi turned her gaze behind her. In the distance was a pair of opossums happily walking side by side. One of them was considerably larger than the other and had a tired gaze while the other one had a tuft of hair in front of their eyes. The larger one suddenly ran ahead, leaving the tuff-haired possum by her lonesome. The possum disappeared into the bushes and reappeared with a fresh daisy in their mouth. A series of happy trills exploded from the other possum as they happily accepted their gift. The two briefly touched noses, causing a bashful stare between them, before they continued their walk into the forest, this time with the flower in tow. 

Oh my fucking God, that's the cutest thing I've ever seen. Rubi thought, her mind growing fuzzy at the idea of her husband Herbert doing something similar.

"It is, isn't it?"

Startled, Rubi leaped to the side, afraid someone had broken into her yard. Instead, she saw that a dirty blonde-haired teen was leaning over her fence, their arms crossed with their head resting between them. Several possum joeys scurried all over their worn red sweatshirt, eagerly looking at their surroundings. Rubi sighed before glaring at the teenager.

"It's not nice to scare people, Neighbor... Or read minds for that matter," Rubi said, hesitantly adding the last part of that sentence.

"I'm sorry and I can't read minds," Neighbor corrected, "I only knew what you were thinking because your face was like an open book."

Rubi blushed but Neighbor continued, "Though I have to agree with you, Martha and Steve are adorable. Yeah, they're adorable all year round but they get extra adorable on this day."

"What's today?" Rubi asked.

Carefully hopping the fence, Neighbor answered her question, "It's their anniversary. That's why I'm watching the joeys."

The aforementioned baby possums eagerly reached out to grab Rubi's black locks as she blinked in surprise. "It's their anniversary? Why didn't they tell me? I could've drawn something for them!"

If you would've told me three years ago I would be upset that I didn't know the anniversary of a pair of possums, I would've called you crazy. Rubi said internally, slowly realizing how weird the situation was. She was brought back to reality as one of the joeys yanked on her hair.

"They probably forgot and it's not my place to share their personal business so I didn't say anything," Neighbor explained.

Rubi nodded, glancing back at the forest. She wished she would have taken a picture of that moment so she could shove it in Herbert's face. Was it so wrong that she wanted her husband to be just as romantic as Steve?

"Wanna know how they got together?"

"There's a story behind that?" Rubi questioned.

"Yes, but it's long so I think you should sit down." Neighbor said. 

Rubi did just that, letting herself be overwhelmed with baby possums. Neighbor took their place beside her and let out a smile.

"It took place a couple of years ago..."

---

Martha knew she wasn't young anymore. That was not implying she was ancient, but her younger sisters from an even younger litter already had begun courting some jacks while she barely found any man tolerable. Her mother had told her that she was too picky but she couldn't help it; she wanted a real man, not a scoundrel. It also didn't help that human television had ruined her idea of love. She wanted a jack to sweep her off her paws and be there to tend to her every whim. Martha knew she was being too demanding, but seeing Mr. Darcy fall deeply in love with Elizabeth after spending so long trying to be the type of snobbish man both she and Elizabeth loathed filled her heart with joy and a desire to have that type of romance. 

Her mother had called her a cotton-headed fool, but Martha thought of herself as a hopeless romantic.

The jill had already made a home for herself in an old badger set, filling her home with human trinkets and flowers. Every day was the same routine: wake up either when the sun was high or when it had set and began to forage or hunt, bring the meal back home and get, go back out and forge some more, stop by the nearby creek and get a drink, see if any of the nearby humans are watching something interesting on the television, then go home. It was a simple routine, but it made her happy. The only part of her day that she dreaded was drinking from the creek.

The creek was often the gathering spot from hotheaded jacks. As most possums her age and younger were burdened with the task of single-handedly raising the joeys, she was often the lone female in a cloud of raging testosterone. She felt appalled by the sort of things they would discuss, such as having slept with multiple jills, attacking humans for the fun of it, and purposely starting fights with the possum's rivals, the raccoons. All that talk reminded her of her brother, who was single like her but it was his own decision. 

That all changed one day when she met a special jack. 

It was a warmer night and the sun was still barely peeking out from beyond the horizon, but Martha was rather thirsty. The heat was getting to all of the animals of the forest, including her. She decided to make a quick detour to the creek to simply drink and wash up before going to forage for grubs. Martha was careful not to be out in the open as it was dangerous for any marsupial to be seen by a predator such as a coyote or a fox. Once she reached the stream, the peaceful lull of the swift waters slapping against the rocks were shattered the high-pitched, crude laughter of nearby jacks. They situated themselves atop a nearby hill and were acting like hooligans, shoving each other and daring one another to leap into the waters below. They would occasionally tear into a vole or squirrel, letting bits of meat and blood drip from their jaws and onto the floor. Martha viewed them as savages. 

The jill quickly began her descent into the creek and let the water rest on the bottom of her stomach. The chill was relaxing and even though she had to tune out the immature calls from the males above, Martha was still enjoying the refreshing sensation. As she was trying to quickly finish up her bath, she saw him.

He was an older jack, probably only a moon or two older then she was. He was much larger than the other jacks, both in size and in weight, and held a sleepy gaze the entire time he padded towards the shore across from Martha. Although he held a tired demeanor, once he plunged his muzzle into the waters, Martha could see the kindness and intellect behind his brown eyes. His lovely gray and white fur was well groomed, not like the jacks that were sneering at both him and her above the pair and other males Martha had met. He seemed so gentle, carefully sitting himself down to get the best drink he could. Martha was instantly smitten.

She kept her eyes on him longer than she intended to as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Embarrassed, the jill dove out of the water and raced away. She could faintly hear the taunts of the other males, but the look the larger male had given her set Martha's heart ablaze. She had done it, she finally met the one she was destined to be with. Her Mr. Darcy. Her Jack Dawson. Her Rick Blaine. 

But she knew she couldn't just rush these things. Human television had taught her she had to be slow, but affirmative. That's why she arrived at the same time the next day, eagerly to meet her potential suitor. She ignored the calls of the jacks who happened to appear as well and only waited for her beloved. However, despite the fact she waited almost an entire evening, he never showed up. Martha was puzzled. Perhaps he was busy doing something else? The forest was a large place after all so it wouldn't be surprising if he got caught up in other affairs. So, after having a quick bite to eat, Martha returned home hoping tomorrow would give her something different. But it was the same thing that day too. Same as the next day, and the day after that, and then the next. Five sunrises had passed and Martha still hadn't met her soulmate again. Her mother's words rang in her head: a cotton-headed fool. Perhaps she had invented the jack to fill the void in her heart. Martha was even more lonely than she started out with. On the sixth day, she decided to start her regular routine up again, although she was much more somber. When she finally reached the creek, she was surprised to see that the subject of her affections was laying across the creek nibbling on a circular human food item. It looked like bread but the jill wasn't too sure. Whatever he was eating didn't matter to her, the jack was here and she was going to make a good first impression. Well, a good second impression, Martha remembered had awkwardly fled the first time they met. She groomed herself to perfection behind a tree before stepping out. Martha tried her best to seem nonchalant yet interested at the same time, like a human jill in one of those human television programs where everyone wore fancy suits and dresses (Martha hoped to one day wear a dress as pretty as those jills wore). Martha made her way to the creek, one eye on the jack, and started to drink. Although she tried to appear uncaring, she couldn't help but grow flustered every time he laid eyes on her. It was like her body was set ablaze by the fires of passion.

This went on for several days. The jack's odd schedule never made any sense to Martha, but she loved the days when the two would sneak looks at each other from across the creek. While the forbidden love aspect was romantic at first, the invisible border between them was growing larger and larger every day. Martha was confused about the next course of action. All of the human stories told her that their relationship would form naturally but it just felt stagnant. Martha didn't wanna lose this jack. She barely knew him, yes, but that's why she wanted to get together with him, to know everything about the lovely man she had fallen in love with. That's why she had decided to turn to The Old Ways. In the Deep Forest was said to house a being older than time itself. It heard all and had the answers. All it asked for was one thing: a vegetable. 

Martha, desperate for answers, found herself a wild radish and began the trek into the deep part of the forest, deeper than most animals dared to venture. The sun began to rise and she knew that predators would rise as well. The forest grew thick with ancient trees and plants twice the size of her. Every noise set her heart racing again. The scent of a fox, coyote, and other strange creatures filled her nostrils once she padded over a log that was a natural bridge over a stream. Mud caked her body and she could feel herself heaving. A cotton-headed fool was the only type of animal who would do something like this, search for a being that might not even exist. Martha thought about turning around for the several hundredth time that whole journey but she couldn't. Not after all this time.

A crack of a twig shot her back to the present. Martha dropped the radish from her jaws and let out a long hiss, but it felt fake; the exhaustion was too strong. Martha was afraid because if she needed to run, she'd be dead.

Instead of a fox or coyote, a long-legged deer with the largest antlers Martha had ever seen stepped out. He looked young, but he had an aura of wisdom that radiated off him. He was bulky, but not overly muscular. His green eyes were teeming with hidden knowledge. He lowered him to Martha's level, offering her to climb on his back. Martha eagerly scrambled onto him, making sure to grab to radish before they took off. The deer didn't run, more liked glided across the forest floor. Leaves were kicked up in the air and floated around them like dancers. Martha was amazed by how bright everything suddenly became once they reached a circular pond surrounded by mossy trees and stones. The deer lowered itself, letting Martha slide off his back. Her body moved on autopilot. She walked towards to edge of the bottomless pool of water, dropped the radish in, and waited.

What is your question, marsupial? A voice erupted from the ground. 

Martha leaped back in terror. Was it a monster? After a few moments, the rumbling stopped and carefully crept back to the edge and asked her question.

Your love will blossom only if the boundaries are shattered and words are spoken. Gazes hold little to the power of speech. That is all.

The voice disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Martha was left with more questions than answers but the strange deer already has lowered back down, signaling it was time to go. Martha more hesitantly crept back on and the deer took off once more. The possum watched the unusual pond until it disappeared from sight. Martha noticed it had become dark and was surprised to see the moon and the stars. She wanted to ask the deer if time had really passed so fast but felt like she was already messing with something beyond her understanding.

The deer stopped at a certain point in the forest as if it were blocked by an invisible force. The jill thanked the deer, stepped off, and made her way home. It was midnight when she finally reached her den. Too exhausted to bother with appearances, Martha collapsed in her nest of moss and ferns. The only thing on the jill's mind was going to see the jack of her dreams. She would go to the creek once she did two things: make herself look presentable and find him a gift. Once she awoke to the sun high in the sky, only then did she notice a faint glow around her. Martha was worried, but not worried enough to miss her chance. She didn't care if she was a cotton-headed fool or blinded by love, Martha was going to make him her's and become his jill. After savaging around, she found a strange human food item by their silver cans of waste. A folded-over piece of flatbread with cheese, meats, and other cut vegetables. The scent made her mouth water, but she grabbed it and rushed over to the creek. She was ready to cross when someone strange was standing by her usual spot.

It was the jack, equally as well-groomed as she was and holding a gift, a branch covered it ripe wild berries. He too had the odd glow around him as well.

The two stared at each other. Martha's heart was pounding. Everything was perfect; the sounds of the creek, the sunlight cutting through the tree branches, the lack of anyone else, animal or human. It was perfect, all of it was. She just needed to step forward. However, the jack moved up first, setting the branch down and nosing it toward her. Martha nearly fainted on the spot. 

The two began to talk. Well, Martha spent most of the time talking. The jack, who she learned was named Steve (a wonderful name for such a handsome man), was a quiet soul but every time he spoke it was with purpose and he always added something to the conversation. Martha learned that his strange schedule was due to his strange sleep affliction in which he often found himself unable to sleep but when he could, would sleep for a long time. Steve had asked if she disliked him now. Martha was surprised as she had no reason to dislike him, he was perfect in her eyes. After their several hours-long chat, they simply sat pressed against each other, watching the water run by.

This became a common occurrence as the days slipped into weeks and into months. The time spent together was wonderful and Martha wanted it to last forever. However, spring had come after fall and winter became almost like a distant memory when she learned of her pregnancy. jills always knew when they were expecting, Martha's mother told her, and Martha was no different. All the signs had been there. The only problem she had was with Steve. It wasn't technically Steve, but males of the possum species had little to do with their babies. The jacks on creek's hill had all had babies but did nothing for them. Instead, they chase the next pretty face they saw. Martha knew it was selfish, but she wanted to stay with Steve. She didn't want him to leave her. So, despite wanting to see him, she decided to stay home and prepare a nest. Although her babies would go into her pouch and stay there for two and a half moons, she felt it necessary to be ready for anything. Besides, she needed to keep her mind off of Steve.

But the day soon came where she needed to visit him. She knew it wasn't fair for Steve to be left in the dark, especially since none of this was entirely his fault. So, on a calm spring morning, Martha nervously made the trek to the creek. Of course, Steve was waiting for her. He had been waiting for her all this time. The usually rational and collected Steve began to fret over the expecting mother, worried that something had happened to her. Martha's heart broke when she saw the worry in his eyes. Finally, once both of them all calmed down, Martha began to speak. She told him about the pregnancy, how far along she was, and her fears. She told him how she dreamed of meeting a man just like him and how she was so afraid to lose him. However, Martha told him that she couldn't make him stay and that, if he wanted to leave, he could and that she wouldn't hold it against him. Silence filled the clearing. All Martha could feel was his gaze on her. Her breathing grew louder but she tried to remain calm.

Suddenly, Steve pressed himself against Martha. Although he didn't say anything, the message was clear. Steve was going to stay, no matter what. Martha let out several happy squeaks and trills and buried her muzzle in his fur. Even Steve let out a couple of excited chirps. Once the two pulled away, the pair touched their noses together, excitedly waiting to see what the future held for the both of them.

---

"Wait, why was their love forbidden? And I never thought you'd be so... Detailed." Rubi said once the story came to a close.

"Well, blame Martha," Neighbor explained. "She's the one who always said it was forbidden because of the symbolism of them being split by the creek or whatever. Personally, I'm just happy Steve stayed. Martha is such a happy possum and I'd be sad to see her sad."

"Me too." Rubi agreed, stroking the back of a black-tufted joey. 

As if it was their cue, Steve and Martha slipped under the fence with Martha calling out to her babies. The joeys let go of Rubi and Neighbor and eagerly rushed towards their parents. Steve didn't make any noise as his children began to climb all over him. Martha chirped at Rubi and Neighbor, seemingly smiling at them.

"What did she say?" The older woman asked.

"Martha says thank you for watching her babies and that it was a wonderful anniversary. They have to go home though, it's growing late for the joeys." Neighbor translated.

The possums said their goodbyes (according to Neighbor) and left the yard. Neighbor stood up and stretched.

"I need to go home too. Mom's making a pot roast tonight. Don't you have to take care of Marie?" 

"Marie's with her grandmother," Rubi said, waving to Neighbor. "Have a good dinner! Thank you for the story."

"It’s no big deal. Later."

With a quick hop over the fence, Neighbor was gone. Rubi took this time to enter the shed. It was covered with science equipment and tools such as hammers and bone saws, but Rubi already knew how to maneuver around the well-lit area. Her black-haired husband didn't look up from his work, but already knew who it was.

"Hello, dear. What did you do today?"

"Painted mostly," Rubi said, wrapping her arms around Herbert's neck in a loose hug. "With Marie gone, it's easier to work without having to worry about her eating something."

"Well, that's certainly a plus," Herbert said, glancing up at Rubi before looking back down at the dull gray-skinned body in front of him.

"It was also Steve and Martha's anniversary today. Neighbor told me the story of how they met."

"Martha?" Herbert quickly looked up after hearing the name of his favorite possum. "Is she upset with me?"

"No, she and Steve didn't tell us and they weren't upset when I saw them. They looked very happy, actually."

"That's good. I was afraid I needed to whip up a hastily made gift for them." Herbert sighed in relief.

Rubi made a noncommittal hum, making circles with her finger around her husband's collar bone. "Herbert."

"Yes, dear?"

"I wanna have another baby."

"Well, I think that can certainly be arran- Wait, what?"

#oc x canon #fanfic

[amethystiridescence]

I debated a lot about whether to post this as I'm worried about it being misconstrued but I feel there's a lot of points that merit discussion. I'd definitely be open for people's thoughts on it.

tl;dr: society has an unhealthy deeply interwoven obsession with sex/romance as a be all and end all, and I think it's a large contributor to sexual violence against women.

Regarding the discussions that Sarah Everad’s case has reawoken, there are few voices trying to invalidate the most common argument by saying “there’s no point telling men not to rape/murder because the messed up men will do it anyway”. But this is an extreme simplification of the matter at hand. The issue lies with the perpetrators of course and NEVER the victims. But we need to explore what breeds the mentality of the perpetrators as SO many women have recounted their experiences, so it’s obvious that the problem is widespread at varying levels. The levels range from the simplest catcaller to cases like Elliot Rodger and Sarah Everad’s killer.

My belief is that a lot of the mentality surrounding the violence and aggression towards women stems from male entitlement. That phrase alone is a buzzword, and again its often used with a simple-cut phrase with “women don’t owe men anything” which is entirely true, but whilst unlearning entitlement is a step further than telling men “don’t rape”, its still not tackling the problem at its roots.

Men in our society have been exposed to lifelong conditioning through mass media and social-engineering. We are more than familiar with movies/tv series where romantic/sexual attention from a woman is often a reward/end goal for the male protagonists. Sometimes there are men pitted against each other vying for the affections of a woman like it’s a coveted prize, and it’s normalised with humorous portrayal. Or sometimes sexual/romantic interest is not a reward, it’s a given, no matter what kind of person the male character is; see any series where a conventionally unattractive/unpleasant man always keeps his devoted, conventionally attractive wife despite his obvious flaws (Peter Griffin, Homer Simpson, Fred Flintstone). Then of course there’s the normalising of not taking no for an answer and constantly persisting and being rewarded eventually for it; for example The Notebook is considered a very romantic film but the male character literally threatens to kill himself to make her agree to date him. And of course there’s very damaging concepts presented by films like the 40 Year Old Virgin, but we’ll come to the negative sex-shaming in a tick.

Luckily thanks in huge part to movements like #MeToo, the idea of consent and ‘no means no’ is being more consistently normalised in modern mass media. Netflix’s Sex Education explores this but it’s still guilty of making the female love interest the end prize goal for the male protagonist.

Now it’s not just in media that this environment of coveting sexual/romantic affection as the ultimate goal is encouraged. Its a socially-engineered thing. A lot of us are aware of the double standard in which men are revered/congratulated by their peers for being sexually/romantically popular with women whereas women are shamed, but we often don’t talk about the poisonous culture in which men who aren’t sexually/romantically active or “successful” are shamed and humiliated. How many times have we witnessed people shaming or embarrassing their mates for not having a romantic partner or ‘not getting some’ or even worse, for being a virgin? The culture surrounding virginity is disgusting, it’s both shamed and coveted. This also ties into insults surrounding size/functionality of genitalia and how men are taught that’s one of the worst kind of insult they can receive. Same goes for insults surrounding “haha you can’t get laid/get any”. Plus some men deliberately pass down this mentality and on top they encourage younger male peers/family members to “keep at it” and “don’t take no for an answer” as if teaching younger men how to ‘get women’ is an important lesson that must be passed on.

One thing that’s also alarming is that this taught drive for sexual/romantic attraction is so inbuilt that men are taught to bypass a lot of principles for the chance of it, such as lying about their interests or faking a personality to keep a woman interested. I’ve also seen men forgiven for tardiness because they ‘got lucky the night before’ (that expression itself feeds into this ‘covet/reward’ culture). Only last week I was watching a video about how women were sexually harassed with deeply unpleasant/objectifying comments online whilst doing Twitch streams and I saw a man reply “Women complain all the time about getting attention, they have no idea how lucky they are, I’d kill for a woman to desire me like that”. Men are inherently taught by both peers and media that their entire self-worth is largely determined by whether they receive romantic/sexual attention, no matter how insincere/damaging it is. Hell, even when discussions about men who’ve committed atrocities against women come up, instead of sympathising with the women who have been hurt and those whose are more scared as a result, men instead tend to lament “men like this guy ruin it for other men, they spoil my chances with other women because women assume I’m like him”. A lot of this is a large part of why incel culture is more dangerously rife than it should ever be. The mere words ‘involuntarily celibate’ are all that’s wrong with what I’m discussing.

Lets be clear, society’s inbuilt social hierarchy around sexual/romantic frequency is poisonous to everyone, especially women and the way so many shape their lives around how ‘attractive’ they’re perceived as, and of course the damage it does to the barely-fledged self esteems and images of teenage girls.

Plus both genders suffer in nearly equal ways under some lenses. People who choose to live without a romantic partner are assumed to be “unable to find love” or “unfortunately lonely” (although its worth noting the semantic sexism of bachelor vs spinster). People who are virgins beyond their teens, hell even just beyond legal age, are pitied/shamed. And people stay in abusive relationships because society's taught us that being unhappy is better than being alone. It’s impossible for people to pass through life without being subject to the social perception of how ‘successful they are in love/sex’.

But in particular with men, it’s incredibly dangerous as it destroys how men perceive themselves, teaching them that women are a given or a prize and if they don’t receive, they’re shamed. Combine that with social engineering of which in general, men are taught to express their anger/frustration with physical exertion or violence. This lays groundwork for male entitlement at its most damaging and dangerous, because not only does it wreck the mental health of men who constantly wonder why they’re not getting what the world taught them they should receive, it also sows the seeds of violent thinking in some. How many times have we as women (as is our basic right) refused the advances of men in public and they’ve responded angrily, and sometimes they’ve been laughed at by their peers as it happens. Humiliation is a degrading and powerful thing and for those who’ve been taught to react aggressively to situations, those with weaker self-esteems (thanks to a myriad of sexist reasons eg 'man up') and those with lack of proper mental health help (again, a huge male-centric problem eg;'boys don't cry'), it can lead to breeding resentment, self-loathing, sometimes suicidal tendencies but more crucially, the anger/vengeance/entitlement that resides in would-be stalkers, rapists and murderers. Elliot Rodger called his murderous rampage a “Day of Retribution” as he lamented “having been at college and still being a virgin” and said he had “no choice to exact revenge on the society that had “denied” him sex and love. He targeted a sorority whose members he had deemed the “hottest” at his college, “the kind of girls I’ve always desired but was never able to have”.

You can see I’ve been carefully trying to toe a line between not excusing the behaviour of men who treat women horribly as a result of all this and more, but also understanding the damaging conditioning in which society has woven. Teaching men “don’t rape” and “women don’t owe you anything” are basic steps, but we need to tackle issues deeper than that. We need to stop teaching everyone that being sexually/romantically desired is NOT the be all and end all of life, that being sexually/romantically desirable is not the sum of someone’s self-worth, and that there is NO shame in being without a partner or not being sexually active.

I understand that society’s obsession with sex/romance/attraction is deeply interwoven and its not going to be unlearned in a day, but can you imagine a world where teenagers are raised being told that their attractiveness/desire popularity doesn’t define their worth to others. Can you imagine a world where women don’t constantly make the majority of their concerns about how attractive people perceive them as before how kind/intelligent they’re perceived as? Can you imagine a world where people don’t feel pressured into sex as virgins, or pressured into relationships where they’re unhappy because it’s better than being alone? Where someone can be without a partner and be their own person without people assuming that its chosen solitude and not liberated independence.

I know romantic/sexual companionship is very central to how the majority of people operate. But consider this, a world where sex/romance isn’t a heavily pressurised must-do, but an opt-in and opt-out path where people can explore at their own pace and with their own limitations and boundaries without people constantly passing judgement on it. Its an idealistic idea, and seeing the way that asexuals are mistreated is another factor in just how society shames those who opt-out of sexual activity. But I believe a lot of this discussion can lead to more practical steps than saying “don’t rape”

How about;

Don’t shame anyone for being a virgin at any age.

Don’t shame anyone for not having a partner.

Don’t shame anyone for not being sexually active.

Unlearn phrases like “get lucky” and “winning the girl/heart”.

Don’t use insults aimed at size/functionality of genitalia.

Don’t insult people based on their appearance.

Just a few ideas to start undoing the entitlement culture that puts so many women in danger.

And of course, wearily I’ll state the disclaimers.

None of this behaviour discussed excuses even the most ‘harmless’ of catcalls, let alone the reprehensible behaviour of the worst offenders. I just think it’s important to understand the finer points of what breeds this consistent societally inbuilt violence and hatred against women. I really really cannot state this too much, this is not a victim-blame, women do not deserve a single infinitesimal part of anything they've gone through just because they insulted some dude's penis.

Being sexually/romantically active is never ever a bad thing of course provided it’s legal, safe and fully consensual. It just shouldn’t be the only path that people feel forced to take.

Briefly, someone might argue that its okay for me to promote that being sexually inactive is all peachy keen is hypocritical when I'm in a happy relationship, but if I was single, you could just as easily argue that I'd be trying to validate being without a partner for my own gratification.

And yes. We know. Not all men. I know plenty of people, not just men who see past a lot of the shaming and conditioning, and continue to liberate themselves from society’s warped expectations of what they should be doing with their lives. But try this, YES ALL MEN are subject to this sexual/romantic obsession that the world forces on them. When a director chooses to have a man portrayed as the butt of a joke because he’s rebuffed by a woman, he’s sending out a message to all men that some of their worth is determined on whether a woman accepts their affections. Whenever a man snidely jokes to his friends that someone he knows can’t get a woman, he teaches his friends that their lives are only validated on whether they can attain partners. Not all men may not be predatory. But all men are targeted by this conditioning. And as a result of all this, all women are afraid.

Followup: Men receiving non romantic affection is largely shamed as well and as a result its not nearly as common as it should be. Men receiving platonic affection doesn't happen nearly as much as it should, because men are taught that platonic affection is never platonic because if it comes from men it must be gay, and if it comes from women, it must come from a place of attraction. This can tie into the larger discussions already at hand regarding men's mental health and the lack of support it recieves.

#metoo #survivor #thoughts

[icanbehardcore]

Top 10 WORST Powerpuff Girls Episodes

For a long time, I have been wanting to make a project resembling a countdown list, being inspired by the likes of @umbramagna777​, @phantomstrider​ and even the Nostalgia Critic. After some considerate years, I have finally decided to make a list based on my all time favorite show The Powerpuff Girls.

Cartoon Network's breakaway hit of the late 90s and early to mid 00s starring three adorable, precocious little kindergartners with superpowers was a cultural phenomenon. Spawning hundreds and thousands of merchandise, a theatrical film, several TV specials, an anime and a reboot, it's unbelievable that a cartoon with an all female lead would become an icon in the cartoon industry.

Created by Craig McCracken fresh off two pilots in the "What A Cartoon" shorts and evolving from the earliest incarnation "Whoopass Stew", The Powerpuff Girls became the highest rated cartoon debut at the time. Critics praised this show for being so unique, entertaining, epic, action packed and nothing like anything else at the time, but most of all, this show was very, very funny.

But that doesn't mean this show gets all the glory and praise 100% per episode, like every television show, there will always be flaws and bad episodes and, the Powerpuff Girls is no exception when it comes to rotten entries in the line-up.

Whether you like these episodes or not, remember to respect each other's opinions, including mine. If you like these episodes, that's great, you're more than welcome to have your say, but be nice.

I am only counting down episodes from the ORIGINAL series, this won't include the movie, the anime, the Dance Pansted special, The tenth anniversary special, the christmas special or especially the reboot.

Mixing either of these up would be one big mess and would derail my points of view. With that being said, let's begin.

NOTE: Spoiler alert ahead.

 10. Keen on Keane   This episode was a new era for the original show, it had a new art style which was first introduced in the movie. So if you hadn't seen it, you would have had to get use to this new art style before getting puzzled or confused.

Unfortunately, these episodes were somewhat mediocre and after 2002, show creator Craig McCracken left the show to Chris Savino, so he could work on Foster's Home for Imaginery Friends. Usually when this happens, that's a sign of a show losing it's...err...Mojo. No pun intended. For a first of this newly animated version of the show, this episode is just ...well...sappy.  

So what's the story: It's Valentines Day...oh boy, what a way to start the new era of an already great show. I am NOT a fan of this holiday whether I'm taken or not. I prefer to keep romance and affection personal.

While receiving various little Valentines from her beloved students, Ms. Keane gets the one simple innocent question asked by the girls: "Where are you going out tonight?" and "Who's your sweetheart?" (don't you just love precocious little questions coming from kindergartners). Ms. Keane explains to the girls that she doesn't have time for going out on dates and is too busy for that sort of thing, this leaves the girls slightly worried, knowing she may be lonely and in need of a significant other half.

Later that evening, the girls are all at dinner with the Professor whose attention prompts the innocent, curious little question from an inquisitive Blossom "Why aren't you going out, tonight?".

Personally, if he WAS going out, he may need to hire a babysitter for the girls and knowing the Professor, he may end up calling someone but being delayed or on hold due to everybody with their arms round each other, making googoo eyes and lip wrestling all evening as they bask into their romance.

Anyway, the Professor tells the girls that HE doesn't have time for dates or going out, nor does he have a sweetheart...(hope he hasn't forgotten the events a long time ago when meeting Ima Goodlady who turned out to be using him and was revealed to be Sedusa).

On hearing this, the girls trade rather sly and calculating looks to each other, a plan has hit them. If their father isn't going out and doesn't have a sweetheart and Ms Keane doesn't have a sweetheart, why not get them together for date?

At Ms. Keane's place, she is busy grading homework. On hearing the doorbell ring, she goes to answer the door only to recieve a love letter from a secret admirer and a rose. Oh bittersweet cliches...

Round the same time, the Professor too recieves an identical love letter from a secret admirer (by the way, I do love how he recieves a red rose and Ms Keane recieves a pink rose).  The two admirers meet at "Petes-A Pizza", an obvious parody to Chuck E Cheese, you can just feel how out of place these two are.

Not to hurt each others feelings, the two adults try to strike a conversation, but seem to show no interest in each other, all they can do is slap on a plastic smile each.

As they try to communicate and interact more and order, Ms. Keane suddenly forces a hearty little smile, stunning and questioning the Professor. As she tells him to look behind him, he sees that his own daughters are hiding in the large ball tank, this catches on as both Ms Keane and Professor Utonium have realized that they had been set up.

Unfortunately, the evening was unsuccessful and the Professor offers his date a ride home with three dejected little girls in the back. Their high hopes sunk to the bottom, gone down like a ship, but the Professor tells them if they did end up going out, then he wouldn't have enough time to spend with his own daughters. As he walks her to her door, Ms. Keane trips on a crack, the Professor immediately dashes forward to catch her. After bewilderment and indecision on what to do next, Ms Keane and the Professor's hearts become intertwine. As they stand up straight, they both share a nervous laugh while blushing (by the way, I find this scene amazingly cute, I mean...the Professor here is just...OMG, how can you not just want to reach out and dive into his arms...ahem...).  Finally,  they hold hands and are somehow...in love. Also note this is the only time in the episode where they see each other  face to face. Feeling accomplished, the girls smile knowing that their mission is complete . The following morning, the girls notice that not everything is all hunky-dory! Now having a significant other half, the Professor neglects his family duties and lab work and Ms Keane neglecting her school duties and even forgetting to feed her cat. Why? Because the two most important role models in the girls' lives are now sickeningly sweethearts talking to each other endlessly on the phone together, complete with EVERY single sentence ending with a mushy pet name. And you know what? It's really degrading! Also that phonebill must be really expensive by now,

Because of the neglection, the girls don't know what crimes are being caused....seriously, not even watching the news? Also, doesn't Ms Bellum have a light for a signal? Why couldn't she  just set that up in the sky for them?

But no! Instead, Sara Bellum gets kidnapped while the conversation continues until the Mayor sneezes, causing the couple to realize that they were holding up phoneline and neglecting their duties, including feeding the cat. This upsets the Professor and complains about the past event where a cat made him jump off a building which somehow, Ms Keane doesn't believe and causes them both to suddenly break up. Hmm...like every other couple today right? Okay that was bad.

Overall, this was a weak episode with no crime fighting at all and for a new start of upgraded animation, this was pretty bad. Especially being a Valentines themed episode.

9. City of Clipsville  I ought to let you know that seasons five and six sucked. Big time and this episode is no exception. I am not much of a fan of clip shows and this one was really weak, lame and the repetitive dialogue is as entertaining as a stale book made for toddlers. "Remember when Mojo Jojo turned us into dogs?"...umm...yeah? There's like two episodes with pretty much the same chunks of animation of it and it doesn't help that they referenced BOTH episodes! Also, did we really want to be reminded of some of the more mediocre episodes?

Mind you, most of these little trips down memory lane never happened. These include The Professor marrying Ms Bellum...for some reason, the girls losing their superpowers without realizing until they fall off a building...the Professor turning the girls AND all of Townsville's citizens into helpless infants...(no, seriously...make way for cliche'd moments whenever a baby is in a cartoon, which I'll get to later), complete with Blossom spitting up over the Professor's shoulder.

BUT the most most shameful fan-service cringe-worthy moment would have to be a quote on quote flashback of when the girls sped up time and became teenagers. Oh my god! Just...yeah. Complete with their midriff showing, slender figures, skinny jeans and stereotypical valley girl accents and mannerisms such as blowing bubble gum talking on their cellphones and ...discovering boys, teenage boys...in this case, the Rowdyruff Boys.

Yeah...remember when I said that the whole counterpart thing is a drag, well they do it here too. But this time, they are somewhat getting along, yet the girls are ditzier. I do love some of the hidden innuendos snuck in this scene visually and audibly.

Besides this episode being a weak one, I do admit that I like how the girls looked as teenagers, a bit two fan-service material-esque but still cute. I love how Bubbles still kept her pigtails in, but are a little longer, Blossom's red hair still makes me jealous *seriously...) and Buttercup growing out that little bob, it suits her.

Of course, I can't mention this scene without the fact that it was a reference to Craig McCracken's fan mail he was  receiving from fans about what would happen if the girls and boys were couples. He hated the idea so he decided to poke fun at this little trope.

Interestingly, there was going to be a scene that never made it, but there were storyboards lying around of the teenage girls becoming popstars...obviously a reference to the likes of Mandy Moore, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera and other teen idols, maybe even the lesser known band that have since broke up, No Secrets.

The episode gets more stupid as everyone somehow ends up in the house until the episode ends which turns out to be filmed in front of a "live audience". Yeah, just...weak.

If you do like this episode, that's great, it does have a few funny moments but I still feel like it's just another cheap bland clip show.  

8. Neighbor Hood Good god was this episode lame? The moral was a good one I will admit, but first, the story...Bubbles rushes home from school in time to watch her favorite show: The Wondrous World of Whimsical Willy. Mr. Willy being the host of the show (and an obvious parody of Mr, Rogers) greets his audience warmly, at first, he seems like the typical friendly, harmless, yet unsettling kind of person on a kid's show. He never snaps, he's calm and mellow. But when Daydream Lane loses all of the happiness and joy, Mr Willy asks his audience to hand over all of their cash to him so they don't lose hope.

Being naive and simple, not wanting the show to fall flat with misery, Bubbles somehow breaks into the town hall and takes off with the money in the Mayor's vault and hands it over to Mr Willy and the rest of the crew on set. By the way, the Mayor also donated...yeah, he's a man child. lol

Meanwhile, back at home, after getting a phone call from the Mayor, Buttercup and Blossom notice their sister live on TV with a huge bag of money, thanking Bubbles, Mr Willy and his gang celebrate until Bubbles' sisters barge in telling Mr Willy to literally drop his act.

Sweaty and nervous, Mr Willy finally snaps and reveals his true plan to steal all of the money of Townsville, showing his true colors at last. Bubbles demands an explanation and tells her sisters that Mr. Willy isn't a crook, he just needed the money to help save Daydream Lane. Blossom isn't buying it and tells Bubbles that none of this is real and that the whole set is just canvas painted with scenery and backgrounds and the crew are all crooks in costume.

Now shocked and realizing she had been conned along with the rest of the those who donated, Bubbles loses faith in Mr Willy and the show and even refuses to save his fall. In case you might guess, Mr Willy is arrested and thrown in prison and Bubbles apologizes for her foolish act and also that she shouldn't believe on what she sees on television. In a way, this is a great moral for kids, especially when the main cast are kindergartners, but come on, the girls are more precocious than this, they are better than this. This is basically a weaker version of Film Flam.

This episode is really unsettling for many reasons.  Mr Willy asking for donations from little kids, isn't that a little creepy and somewhat makes him a pedophile? But to go as far as flying all the way to the set on your own and revealing the stolen cash is even more risky and dangerous.

I have read something interesting here from the PPG wikia, this episode was based real-life events in a 1965 New Year incident where Soupy Sales, miffed at having to work on the holiday, ended his live broadcast by encouraging his young viewers to tiptoe into their still-sleeping parents' bedrooms and remove those "funny green pieces of paper with pictures of U.S. Presidents" from their pants and pocketbooks. "Put them in an envelope and mail them to me," Soupy instructed the children. "And I'll send you a postcard from Puerto Rico!" He was then hit with a pie. He later admitted that he was joking and that the money would be donated to a charity, but Sales was negatively affected by the incident.

Also I learned that this episode was actually written back in 1999 as a season 2 episode, but was scrapped since the staff feared a lawsuit from PBS, so instead the story was given to DC Comics named Remote Controlled. The story was much better and less mediocre compared to this one. It's such a downfall when a great cartoon runs it's course and episodes that were originally written for the comics suddenly have elements thrown onto the screen and never live up to how they could have been.

There's something else I would like to point out here. I saw this comment on the PPG wikia by a user named Crossoverfan4ever and he pointed out that Bubbles commited a crime and got away with it, and did she get punished? Of course not, because she's, cute, innocent adorable, precious, sweet little Bubbles who can probably get away with murder if she tried.

So...in A Very Special Blossom, Blossom steals a rather valuable set of golf clubs and gets punished for it with 200 hours of community service, yet the Professor asks the cops to go easy on her and she's also sorry (seriously, you can feel her sorrow in her voice and that face just says it all).

In the fan-loathing controversial episode Moral Decay, Buttercup commits a crime by breaking into the local villains homes and steals their teeth for money from the "tooth fairy" after already beating up crooks for committing crimes. Her punishment: Ambushed by her worst enemies as her sisters sadistically watch her get beat up (note that Buttercup is a little girl, so can you imagine the pain inflicted on her?). Going back to Neighbor Hood, yeah, it's bad. One of season five's worst.

7. Crazy Mixed-Up Puffs

Season six was definitely the weakest link in the original show's run, so in a way, it's a breath of fresh air when McCracken and Savino declined a season seven from Cartoon Network (much to the disappointment to the fans).

CMUP just made way for some really weak points in writing and character development and derailment. Whichever one, even my feelings for this are mixed up...or mesed up. Whatever!  

In this episode, Mojo Jojo is watching old clips of the past fights and battles he has had with the girls and soon stops for an ice cream break. Unforunately, a little girl is in front of him and he deters her. As Mojo orders his three scoops (which happen to resemble the signature colors of the Powerpuff Girls), the little girl throws her ball at him, causing him to drop the ice cream onto the floor. As it does, Mojo gets an idea.

Mojo then goes home to his lair and creates a dummy of a girl calling for help, attracting attention from the Powerpuff Girls, they fly over to save her and are immediately caught in his trap.

The machine swirls the girls together, fusing them all into one and because of this, the girls find it hard to fly, spin and even keep their own balance, not to mention worsening their arguments every single time. It's really unpleasant to watch.

From here, the girls  now have to rely on each other with trust and work as a team to stop Mojo. After finally making their way to Mojo, they defeat him, destroying the fuse machine with a huge blast, but are still stuck together as one.

As they make their way back to the Mayor's office, they get Professor Utonium to try and seperate them. Feeling hopeless, the Professor breaks down into tears knowing that his daughters will never be the same, but they tell him that they don't mind being this close and reassure him that everything is going to be okay. The Mayor finds a thread from their fused dresses and pulls it which somehow...separates the girls restoring them to their glory. I do love when the Professor tells the girls that he loves them all, it's moments like this that always make the show great, it's too bad this episode suffered from mediocicy, unpleasant arguments and...this (Really? After all you've been through, you decide to add this in here?) NOTE: Never let Paul Stec or someone else write a Powerpuff Girls episode storyline which may result into tasteless immature fart jokes...speaking of which...

6. Reeking Havoc Season six...why? Why did you have to go with this crap? An entire episode about flatulence? Really? Okay, well silently but still visually. I for one don't care for this kind of humor, it's immature, lame, not funny, pointless and...just go watch South Park if you're into that stuff (by the way, I'm a huge fan of South Park, freakin' ironic I know! lol).

The Girls have just returned home from enjoying a beautiful sunny day in spring, admiring the fresh air until their noses are suddenly inflicted with the smell of something ...not so fresh, in this case, chili. Yep! Because how else are the writers going to come up with an episode which is ten minutes of fart jokes. Real mature. Not.

It turns out that the girls father Professor Utonium is cooking this...chili for the "2nd Annual Chili Cook-Off" in Townsville. The girls reluctantly try a sample, as expected by them and those watching, it doesn't go down well (we even see a shot of Buttercup losing it in the waste-bin). Worried that he may lose again, Blossom decides that they should tell the Professor, but her sisters object due to the year before, in which the Professor lost and broke down.

Later that night, the Professor still thinks his chili needs something extra...or should that be "x-tra"...with that, he adds a drop of Chemical X into the concoction. Sure, because somehow that works right? Also, maybe adding COFFEE into the chili is the reason it doesn't taste so good. Later on that night, the girls (one by one) also happen to put a drop of Chemical X in the chili.

The following morning during the annual chili contest, the judges (which happen to be Ms Keane, the Mayor and Sara Bellum) are trying out all the dishes that have been made for the event when soon, they try the Professor's chilli causing reactions that they never experienced before. With that, the Professor is declared the winner of the contest and is awarded the trophy and with that, the Mayor hands out free samples of the prize winning chilli.

What then follows is nothing but flatulent puns, visual and audible, one after the other while everyone's guts start growling and all that gas happens to escape and creates...a giant methane monster. No, seriously! A giant cloud made out of everyone's gas! What were the writers thinking, seriously? It's like they have watched Ren and Stimpy and got some ideas off there, no? 

The following day, the methane monster soon causes chaos all over Townsville and his stench is so unbearable that it causes everyone to feel nauseous and complain. This then causes the Mayor to call the girls and...*sighs*...watching them trying to fight off a huge flatulent monster is just...well...yeah. Lame.  

As if stinking up the city has already been done in season 2's Down and Dirty, but that as caused by Buttercup refusing to bathe, but nope, we get a full on episode with gastronomical proportions and bad jokes!

From here, we get some rather ridiculously stomach churning moments including the girls actually trying to suck the monster up...err...gross? So...after the mention of a "match", Blossom gets an idea and takes off and returns again in seconds with...a giant match...no seriously AND to make this episode even more cringy, she mentions that she got it from the same place where she got the giant jar in "episode two season one". Was that really necessary?

I don't wanna go on since its pretty cliche'd with the fact that entering a chili cook-off with an ingredient that happens to be linked to chaos, it's obvious what that equals.

This was a bad episode and I mean really really bad. GOLDEN RULE: Keep fart jokes off this show! Oh wait...the reboot pushed that further! *sighs*

5. Gettin' Twiggy With It Consider this the Pet Sitter Pat episode of The Powerpuff Girls. Nearly every character in this show is likable, funny, great, relatable and somehwhat a decent role model. All but one...that being a less major character: the girls class mate Mitch Mitchellson. A sadistic, nasty, evil, selfish, greedy, manipulative  child who takes pleasure in bullying his fellow...ahem...classmates. Think of him as the Nelson Muntz of Townsville. Think of him as Ren Hoek off Ren Seeks Help in Ren and Stimpy Adult Party Cartoon, or maybe even Stewie Griffin. In this episode, it's Friday and that means one of the kids has the responsibility of taking the class hamster Twiggy home. The girls volunteer, but somehow Ms. Keane chooses Mitch to look after her.

This episode is legimately painful to watch in my opinion. As an animal lover (especially hamsters) who hates animal cruelty to a degree couldn't even watch this. It isn't funny, isn't a pleasure to watch, it's just sick, twisted and evil, I'm glad though that the episode itslef wasn't treated as comedic, that would make me up this episode straight to number one in my opinion. Mitch apparently says he never owned a pet before, yet you can clearly see that he has a snake in the background, what the hell?

I like how when Twiggy becomes a vicious monster, the girls do their part to save him, but still teach him a lesson in harming little Twiggy. It's rare for an episode to be played out seriously for the most part, yet this is just so difficult to watch. Especially all the ways Mitch tortures the hamster.

Gettin' Twiggy With It is just nasty and an unwatchable episode. It's unpleasant, demented and just uncomfortable to watch. For a better review on this episode, I suggest reading this: https://www.deviantart.com/regulas314/art/1001-Animations-Gettin-Twiggy-With-It-517452789. He does great reviews and provides decent detail.

Overall, Mitch Mitchellson is hands down my most despised character in The Powerpuff Girls, maybe even worse than Princess Morbucks. And that's saying a lot. 

4. Girls Gone Mild I don't think there's one countdown of top ten worst PPG without this episode at least appearing on there. It's bad, the story, the premise, the fact that this episode was inspired by letters Craig McCracken received from parents thinking the violence was appropriate as a defence, pretty much the Three Girls and A Monster of the Chris Savino era. This episode is basically like a reminder that parents and legal guardians are the ones who should ultimately take responsibility for their children's actions instead of just blaming other people for it. But for what it is, it's not funny or entertaining and definitely one worth skipping. Need I point out that the two people of "P.A.P.P" (People Against Powerpuff Girls) were played by the same people behind the voices of Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly Odd Parents?

But seriously, where do these two come from? Clearly not from Townsville otherwise they'd be more than happy to ask for the girls help, but no, instead they eat everything up with complaints and threaten to sue the Professor if the girls start using their superpowers again. I hate tropes like this, especially when we all know in the end, they go back to normal and do what they do best. Now if only they were kicking Stanley and Sandra Practice's butts instead.

3. Moral Decay *sighs* some of you have definitely seen this one coming but you can see why. It's one of the most unpleasant, mean spirited and degrading episodes of the Craig McCracken era. What were the writers actually thinking?

Buttercup's nothing but a straight up sadist in this episode, the moment those mouth muscles form a malicious slasher smirk, she has straight up changed in personality throughout the episode. After accidentally knocking one of Bubbles' teeth out, she learns of the "tooth fairy" bringing money in exchange for teeth under kid's pillows and what does she do? She constantly abuses Bubbles just to try and knock out her teeth.

First off, Buttercup may be tough, but she loves her sisters dearly and wouldn't think of abusing her own sisters for kicks. Sure she gets into scrapes now and then, argues and teases them, but she would never want to hurt them to this extent!

UmbraMagna's stated this before on YouTube but have they go something against Buttercup, did they hate her character? Why did she always get the rough stuff in punishment and treatment? Think about it? In Down and Dirty, she refuses to bathe and even gets kicked out the house until she gives in and is forcefully given a full scrub by her own sisters. In Cover Up, a whole opportunity is wasted  on a story that could have had a heartwarming peptalk scene between Buttercup and the Professor, there, Buttercup feels vulnerable without her security blanket. You gotta remember that she is a little girl, it's normal for someone her age to have a baby blanket.

Going back to Moral Decay, it's a terrible episode that's just painful to watch and do NOT get me started on the ending. The Professor at his most non-caring right here, not to mention that close out ending scene. As punishment, the Professor pays covers Buttercup's dental bills with the money she "saved". By the way, I suggest you check out @UmbraMagna's extended review on this episode. Since mostly I'd be shadowing and echoing what she has said, along with A Very Special Blossom in her top 10 worst PPG eps countdown.

2. Sun Scream/The City Of Frownsville I put these two together because...well, they both aired together, simple as, bit cheap and not so well explained or thought but what else. These two episodes are just torture! Despite being on different topics. 

First off, Sun Scream. This episode is just a chore to get though. The girls all catch the sun after refusing to put sunscreen lotion on while trying to stop a solar flare from plummeting to the earth. What do their fans and the rest of the citizens do? They laugh at them, instead of showing concern for three kids who have badly been sunburned. Just...what has happened to Townsville?

The rest of the episode is nothing but the girls struggling to get up out of bed and trying to answer the hotline, getting dressed to even struggling to attack some con artists. I won't spoil this episode but if you have made it through till the end then good luck, this one's just painful to watch.

Then we have The City of Frownsville. Although being dedicated to those who lost their lives during 9-11 (with all my respect, I pray now even). Despite this, this episode is nothing but everyone sobbing their eyes out for ten minutes. If you can't stand nails scratching on a chalkboard, then you will definitely not be able to make it through this episode.

All of Townsville's put under a spell by "Lou Gubrious" and his machine that causes everyone to cry uncontrollably, this then reverses his mood giving him the new name "Hal Larious" (please, seriously?), the rest...ugh.

Skip this one while you can guys.

Before I get to number one, I'd like to give out a few dishonorable mentions.

Cover Up - For shaming Buttercup being a softy. Also her sisters cruelly laughing at her. Twisted Sister - First off, I don't hate this episode as a whole, I don't like what they did with the new sister Bunny. She's unstable, but her slurred speech and lack of English, as well as dying in so called comedic fashion's a bit too much. Fallen Arches - Blossom's unbearable in this episode. Sure, we should respect the elderly but refusing to fight these crooks and throw'em in jail. Just...no. Sweet and Sour - Ugh, cutesey animals getting away with crime and the citizens are just as clueless because they are "TOO CUTE!". Come on! Pee Pee Gs - Unsettling and nothing but pee jokes. Umm...no, unfunny and a cringefest. Prime Mates - Mopey Popo's constant complaining and rambling in his Droopy-esque voice and the girls not having enough screen time make this a true downer. A Very Special Blossom - Ugh, one of the first of episodes where one of the girls does wrong and gets punished for it. In this case, Blossom's dark side shows when she steals a valuable set of golf clubs just to please the Professor for Father's Day. That's Not My Baby - Ah the baby cliche! Whether it's abandoned or just being looked after the whole package is there. The baby never stops crying, and when it eats, it's diaper needs to be changed yada yada yada, I'm sick of this cliche and this episode's no better. HOW did they not even notify the Professor even? I left it out of here because the ending was actually clever. Cop Out - Forgettable, bland and yeah. Unfunny, also that cop. Ugh. Custody Battle - Just doesn't feel like a PPG episode, but a Rowdyruff Boys spinoff. Also the whole two daddies thing...nah. Divide and Conquer - I know education and learning's important but an entire maths episode...nope. Save Mojo - I'm a bit of an animal activist, no lies but...a cartoon chimpanzee with constant diabolical plans to destroy the Powerpuff Girls and take over the world, that's different (plus a cartoon), and...yeah. Basically Girls Gone Mild with animal activists and protesters. Say Uncle - Absolutely forgettable and lame. Mizzen In Action - I love the Crack McCraigen pun name but over all, this swash buckling episode's one of the show's most forgettable episodes. Seed No Evil - Bland and boring and...seriously, what's this all about seeds in olden times? The City of Nutsville - Bubbles gets stung in the throat by a bee/wasp and her sisters actually laugh at her...messed up. Also, squirrel apocalypse. Insane. West in Pieces - Ugh...ancestors of the Powerpuff Girls? really? As if Seed No Evil was no better.

And the number one worst Powerpuff Girls episode is...

1. Toast Of The Town I HATE this episode! Talk about character derailment, especially when you're in the middle of season five. If you can get through this episode listening to the Mayor speak in the third person, good for you, because there's a lot of it and it's enough to make your eardrums split.

The Mayor has a huge craving for toast (say, at least SOMEONE now has a toaster unlike everybody in Too Pooped To Puff few seasons back) but his toaster is out of range, so he goes to the Professor to have it fixed. And with that, we get some of the most cringe inducing audio, lack lustered story writing and some of the most ANNOYING dialogue in any episode! The Mayor is basically nothing but...a child in a man's body here. The Professor won't fix his toaster because he's busy, but after more complaining from the Mayor, he gets on with the job and the Mayor is so impatient he asks in seconds if it's done yet...really? The Mayor is an idiot, that's for sure, but at least he means well and loves his city and job and looks out for the girls. BUT his stupidity here is both questionable, childish and dumbed down to a tee!

The Professor makes the Mayor wait somewhere in the lab which he does despite still dejected and impatient. What follows is...the Mayor curiously pressing buttons like a child and setting off an alarm and causing a huge explosion in the lab...err...is this Dexter's Lab or The Powerpuff Girls? Some weird pattern here! Anyway, the Professor then proceeds to let the Mayor stay put by putting him in a high chair...for...some reason...

Later on, the Mayor discovers a can of Chemical X and rubs some of it on his head thinking it's hair growth formula and...his entire body is now the size of King Kong, complete with a shameless parody to boot. I don't need to explain anymore of this.

Seriously? The Mayor's third person speech and childish behaviour here is some of the worst character derailment I've ever seen. As I said with Gettin' Twiggy With It, there's a more detailed review here by Regulas314: https://www.deviantart.com/regulas314/art/Animated-Atrocities-Toast-of-the-Town-475588395

There's no other way I can mention this episode without any...ahem spoilers, but I suggest avoiding it while you can. SERIOUSLY! This episode's unbearable!

Compare the Mayor in episodes like Uh Oh Dynamo, where he was against the girls having the city destroyed (even though it was the Professor making the girls use the Dynamo). Then compare him here...it's just painful. And with that, let me know what you think which episodes do you think are th eabsolute worst? 

#Powerpuff Girls #Top 10 #countdown #worst episodes

[omxriis]

               hi   guys      !      this   is   something   i’ve   been   tossing   back      &      forth   in   my   head   for   a   lil   bit   ,   but   the   fact   of   the   matter   is   that   my   muse   for   mari   was   starting   to   run   low   ,   but   i’m   a   mess      &      don’t   wanna   let   go   of   him   asdfjkns   ,   so   i   decided   to   revamp   him      !      or   more   accurately   ,   bring   old   mari   back      !      so   below   u   will   find   his   old   biography      (      thank   god   i   still   have   his   old   intro   up   sdfgkjfsd      )      as   well   as   a   little   update   bc   he   needs   smth   to   give   him   a   kick   up   the   ass   :/   this   shouldn’t   rly   affect   most   of   my   plots   but   if   u   would   like   to   plot   smth   w   him   ,   pls   let   me   know      !

&& .   announcing   his   royal   highness  ,      (      𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈   𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈   𝐙𝐔𝐋𝐔      )      ,   the      (      𝟑𝟎      )      year   old      (      𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄      )      of      (      𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐀      )      .   he   is   often   confused   with      (      𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋   𝐁 .   𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍      )      .   some   say   that   he   is      (      𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒      &      𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍      )      ,   but   he   is   actually      (      𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑      &      𝐅𝐀𝐈��𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋      )      .

trigger   warnings   :   brief   mentions   of   death      &      illness   .

*    𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑪𝑺   .

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋   𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄      &      𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒   :      omari      (      god   the   highest      )      malachi      (      my   angel      )      zulu      (      heaven      )      .

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒    :      mar   ,   mari   .

𝐀𝐆𝐄   :      thirty   .

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘   :      4th   of   august   .

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑   :      male   .

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒   :      he   /   him   .

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂   :      leo   af   .

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐍   :      christian   .

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   :      crown   prince   of   botswana      (      self   -   proclaimed   professional   pain   in   the   ass      )      .

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒   :      writing   ,   reading   ,   being   in   social   situations   ,   solving   problems   ,   traveling   ,   annoying   his   siblings   .

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒   :      loud   eaters   ,   obnoxious   people   ,   big   insects   ,   being   responsible   for   his   actions   .

*    𝑨𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑺   .

bare   feet   in   mornings   ,   neatly   folded   clothes   ,   an   organised   shoe   closet   ,   messy   sheets      &      an   unmade   bed   ,   missed   calls   at   2am   ,   highlighted   passages   in   a   book   ,   dogeared   pages   ,   unanswered   texts   ,   tucked   in   shirts   ,   unfinished   books   ,   warm   tea   ,   warm   jumpers   from   the   dryer   ,   odd   ceramic   mugs   ,   hidden   springs   of   water   ,   worn   out   military   boots   ,   fallen   leaves   during   autumn   ,   poetry   at   midnight   ,   sleepy   morning   voice   ,   unsent   letters   .

*   𝑩𝑰𝑶𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑷𝑯𝒀   .

               when   botswana   gained   its   independence   in   1966   ,   it   seemed   as   if   things   were   going   well   .   the   democracy   they   had   built   was   stable      &      it   appeared   as   if   the   land - locked   country   had   no   problems   ,      &      for   a   while   it   hadn’t   but   after   a   few   years   the   peace   in   the   government   started   to   dwindle   .   too   many   people   wanting   too   much   power   ,   somebody   said   .   they   jumped   in   feet   first   without   any   real   clue   how   to   run   a   country   ,   said   another   .   but   over   time   the   uninterrupted   tranquility   became   obsolete   .   botswana   was   slowly   going   down   a   sinkhole   until   1985   ,   when   the   south   african   king   titled   his   eldest   son   ,   arno   zulu   ,   the   king   of   botswana   .

                the   change   shook   the   botswanian   government   to   the   core   ,   a   change   that   it   needed   .   at   first   the   people   of   botswana   weren’t   sure   how   to   react      —      this   new   monarchy   was   something   nobody   had   expected   .   but   the   newly   crowned   king   had   ambition      &      he   had   stride   .   he   had   a   set   vision      &      a   set   plan   to   follow   ,   all   the   while   he   was   kind   to   his   people      &      a   fair   ruler   .   it   didn’t   take   as   long   as   he   expected   for   the   botswanians   to   settle   under   his   rule      (      not   being   given   the   south   african   throne   was   a   huge   knock   on   his   confidence   as   a   royal      )      so   the   speed   his   country   settled   was   comforting   .

                however   ,   the   king   could   never   forgive   his   father   for   throwing   away   his   right   to   the   throne      &      instead   promised   it   to   the   youngest   of   the   zulu   heirs   .   this   bitterness   ,   however   subsided   into   a   more   a   more   subtle   distaste   as   he   settled   into   his   new   role      &      a   short   few   years   later   ,   he   was   married   to   a   libyan   princess      &      not   too   long   after   that   ,   she   fell   pregnant   with   their   first   child   .   the   pregnancy   wasn’t   easy      ;      there   were   a   few   complications   along   the   way   but   after   only   8   months   of   carrying   him   ,   omari   malachi   zulu   was   born   .

                omari   wasn’t   by   any   standards   an   extraordinary   baby   .   his   birth   was   easy   ,   all   things   considered   but   as   the   first   born   child   of   the   king   of   botswana   ,   he   had   responsibilities   he   never   even   knew   he   had   .   the   country   accepted   him   with   open   arms      &      celebrated   his   birth   in   an   ornate   fashion   .   after   all   ,   he   was   the   first   born   child   of   their   first   king   .   streets   were   decorated   with   the   botswanian   flag      &      music   filled   the   streets   for   days   after   .   the   prince   was   a   vision   ,   as   many   called   him   .   he   looked   strikingly   similar   to   his   father   ,   even   small   features   like   the   dimples   in   his   cheeks      &      the   crease   between   his   eyebrows   as   he   smiled   .   for   months   botswana   was   full   of   joy      &      that   joy   started   to   bring   the   country   back   into   the   state   of   peace   they   had   at   the   very   start   of   their   independence   .

                   the   birth   of   their   future   king   gave   them   hope   .   stability   .      &      in   turn   they   treated   their   leaders   with   grace      &      kindness   ,   living   in   harmomy   .   it   was   almost   idyllic      ;      omari   grew   up   in   a   world   where   everyone   was   at   peace   as   opposed   to   just   a   few   years   before   he   was   born   .   he   had   everything   he   wanted      &      was   treated   with   respect   ,   so   he   treated   his   people   with   respect   in   return   .   he   grew   up   in   a   loving   household   ,   full   of   books      &      all   the   learning   tools   a   young   heir   could   need   ,      &      although   his   professor   was   hard   on   him   ,   omari   did   not   let   this   harden   him   .

                as   a   child   he   had   always   been   a   free   -   spirit      ;      he   was   intrigued   by   the   idea   of   traveling      &      had   read   about   all   the   places   in   the   books   from   the   palace’s   library      &      from   strangers   who   had   stayed   at   the   palace   in   passing   .   he   was   quite   content   ,   he   had   a   certain   mischievousness   which   often   caught   the   guards   out      &      a   long   string   of   jokes   that   could   keep   people   laughing   for   days   .   however   ,   for   a   child   living   in   such   a   large   expanse   it   was   incredibly   lonely   ,   so   it’s   to   be   expected   that   when   his   brother   was   born   ,   omari   was   over   the   moon   .

                the   pair   were   like   two   peas   in   a   pod      ;      where   you’d   see   one   ,   you’d   no   doubt   see   the   other   following   not   too   far   behind   .   they   grew   close   quickly      &      omari   was   fiercely   loyal   to   his   younger   brother   .   however   ,   much   like   any   ordinary   older   sibling   he   could   be   difficult   .   although   he   wasn’t   nasty   ,   he   was   a   bit   of   a   tyrant   .   causing   ruckus      &      playing   pranks   on   his   brother   was   omari’s   favourite   pastimes      &      although   they   had   their   disagreements   ,   he   did   it   with   love      &      there   was   very   little   omari   wouldn’t   do   for   him   .

                when   his   brother   was   born   ,   omari   learned   a   lesson   in   sharing   .   when   his   sister   was   born   ,   he   learned   a   lesson   in   protection   .   growing   up   he   was   educated   on   how   to   run   a   country   successfully      &      how   to   be   a   good   king   ,   but   nobody   taught   him   how   to   be   a   good   brother   .   sometimes   he   could   be   intolerant   to   who   he’d   often   call   the   ‘ bonus   zulu   children ’   just   to   irritate   them   ,   but   despite   his   annoying   habits   his   siblings   were   his   best   friends   .   they   filled   the   empty   void   that   would   otherwise   still   be   hollow   in   the   palace      &      on   stressful   days   ,   they’d   be   the   ones   to   aid   him   in   unwinding   .

                the   pressures   of   becoming   king   one   day   didn’t   truly   hit   full   force   until   he   hit   his   teenage   years   .   he   was   expected   to   set   a   prime   example   not   only   for   his   country   but   also   his   siblings   ,      &    although   he   did   a   good   job   at   being   generally   liked   by   his   peers    &      the   like   ,   he   realised   soon   enough   he’d   have   to   get   out   there      &      represent   his   country   ,   so   that’s   what   he   did   .   he   started   travelling   the   world      &      meeting   new   people      &      after   a   while   ,   he   went   to   college   .   someone   had   briefly   suggested   a   college   in   portugal   so   he   decided   to   go   there   ,   studying   literature      &      modern   language   .

                it   was   here   where   he   met   barbara   de   bragança   ,   being   in   college   at   the   same   time   as   she   was   getting   her   degree   .   due   to   his   royal   status   he   was   invited   to   stay   at   her   college   home      &      after   taking   the   opportunity   ,   the   two   quickly   became   close   friends   .   he   completed   his   education   in   portugal   before   he   jetted   off   to   carry   on   exploring   the   world   ,   however   he   never   lost   touch   with   barbie      &      he   started   to   become   more   responsible   as   he   prepared   to   one   day   be   king   .   while   on   his   travels   he   learned   a   lot   about   different   cultures      &      could   strike   up   a   conversation   with   anyone   over   anything   .

                give   or   take   a   few   years    &      his   family   asked   him   to   get   engaged   to   the   princess   of   hungary   ,   fanni   croÿ   .   the   arrangement   was   strange   given   they   already   had   a   history   but   due   to   it   being   for   the   benefit   of   botswana   he   agreed      &      then   they   were   engaged   .   however   ,   just   as   they   were   starting   to   figure   things   out   the   engagement   was   called   off      &      out   of   his   confusion   ,   omari   took   off   without   a   word   to   anyone      &      has   been   m.i.a   ever   since   ,   only   keeping   in   touch   with   a   short   selection   of   people   .

*     𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀   .

omari   is   a   lover   of   adventure      &      experiencing   new   things   .   people   might   call   him   a   thrill   seeker   ,   but   he   just   believes   that   a   life   without   experiencing   everything   you   can   isn’t   a   life   worth   living   .   he   enjoys   learning   new   things      &    is   always   keen   on   hearing   different   opinions   to   benefit   his   own   ,   however   he   can   come   across   as   being   quite   opinionated   when   it   comes   to   his   own   thoughts      &    he’s   not   afraid   to   speak   his   mind   ,   which   sometimes   got   him   into   trouble   when   he   was   younger   but   has   earned   him   great   respect   as   he   grew   older   .

                in   general   ,   omari   is   kind      &      thoughtful   .   he’s   been   influenced   a   lot   by   his   father’s   way   of   ruling   the   country      &      is   a   firm   believer   that   you   should   treat   people   the   way   you   expect   to   be   treated   ,   but   he’s   not   afraid   to   stand   his   ground   when   he   needs   to   or   protect   those   that   he’s   closest   to   .   when   it   comes   to   his   family      &    his   close   friends   ,   omari   will   go   to   the   ends   of   the   earth   for   them   even   if   it   was   just   to   bring   them   a   pretzel   from   europe   .   he   values   them   a   lot      &      is   extremely   loyal   to   them   .

                however   ,   omari   can   be   quite   flaky      &      fickle   .   when   it   comes   to   making   decisions   regarding   his   country   ,   he’s   very   clever   in   his   approach    &    makes   sure   it’s   the   best   decision   but   when   it   comes   to   his   personal   life   ,   he’s   not   very   good   at   all      &      often   has   to   seek   advice   from   other   people   just   to   make   the   correct   decision   .   he   dislikes   situations   that   are   too   messy   ,   which   is   one   of   the   few   reservations   he   has   about   being   king   because   he   knows   he’ll   be   stuck   in   some   but   he’s   working   on   his   habit   of   fleeing   before   the   situation   gets   too   bad      &   instead   striving   to   resolve   them   .

                he   can   be   pretty   mischievous   ,   since   when   he   was   younger   he’d   often   play   pranks   on   the   guards      &    his   siblings   just   to   ,   as   he   used   to   say   ‘ pass   the   time ’   so   although   he’s   someone   you   can   trust   with   your   secrets   ,   he’s   not   someone   you   can   trust   not   to   scare   the   living   daylights   out   of   you   the   next   chance   he   gets   .   he   loves   to   have   fun      &    is   slightly   worried   that   when   he   becomes   king   all   the   fun   he’s   having   now   will   no   longer   exist   ,   but   following   in   his   father’s   footsteps   is   something   he’s   always   been   keen   in   doing      &      seeing   how   well   he’s   doing   pushes   him   to   do   the   same   .

                although   his   father   isn’t   so   bothered   anymore   by   the   fact   that   he   was   ,   as   omari   sees   it   thrown   to   the   side   for   his   younger   brother   ,   omari   is   extremely   bitter   about   it   .   even   though   he   loves   botswana      &      its   people   ,   he   still   heavily   believes   that   since   his   father   is   the   oldest   of   the   zulu   heirs   ,   he’s   rightfully   in   line   for   the   south   african   throne   so   the   fact   that   his   uncle   ,   who’s   little   over   ten   years   older than   him   never   fails   to   stir   up   troubling   thoughts      &      now   that   his   grandfather   has   fallen   ill   ,   he   sees   this   as   an   opportunity   to   start   conflict   with   his   uncle   .

*   𝑼𝑷𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬   .

ok   i’m   literally   just   gonna   bullet   point   the   things   that   have   changed   for   him   bc   i’m   too   lazy   to   go   back      &      edit   this   entire   bio   sdfkjdnsjkg

but   u   guys   already   know   gramps   is   dead   ,   which   means   ayo   is   king   ,   which   means   the   cousins   failed   in   their   attempts   smh

mari   was   slightly   bitter   after   the   coronation   ,   but   it   only   lasted   for   a   short   while   ,   bc   news   hit   him   that   his   father   wasn’t   very   well   ,   which   meant   that   mari   would   have   to   step   up      &      do   more

i’m   gonna   say   to   save   confusion   that   he   just   wasn’t   doing   enough   .   he   rarely   got   involved   with   political   moves   ,   so   that’s   crucial   now   since   his   father   can’t   cope   as   usual

so   i   don’t   rly   know   how   this   will   affect   him   ,   it’ll   either   make   him   kick   his   ass   into   gear      &      do   shit   with   his   life   or   he’ll   get   so   stressed   he’ll   have   a   break   down

WHO   KNOWS

#hshqintro #tw illness #tw death #i forgot how long his bio was wTF

[unholyhelbig]

Prompt- Beca is a human trying to finish college and hopefully move to LA with her friend Stacie. Chloe is a demon looking for some fun and ends up being smitten with the DJ.

[A/N: Alright… I may have gone too far with this one. But I was feeling it, and might continue feeling it for a mini-series.] 

She tilted her head back, letting the hot alcohol dribble past her lips. It wasn’t painful, not anymore. She could actually enjoy the taste- even if it made her throat tingle. The drink had a way of warming her, making her feel human in a routine that could be described as nothing more but mundane.

Chloe Beale had fallen into mankind perfectly; it was fun, at first, studying the way humans interacted with each other. How they melded into their own vices. Each human had a motive, she figured earlier on, some were better than others, but the driving focus was common; satisfaction.

In 1864 she had learned that people have differences. They fight when things get bad, and when freedoms are quelled. She also learned that it was easy for humans to turn on one another in a quick second. The difference between grey and blue still ringing thick in her ears to this very day.

In the early 1920’s she discovered that indulgence was a thing. That people would die for simple habits and drown their sorrows in extravagant parties and plastic little cards… the years after the 20’s, she recalled, were a simple and cold truth that left her desolate and lonely.  

During the 70’s Chloe figured that love was a thing human’s strive for. They would pull each other closer in the cold of Kansas City nights like the rancid scent of construction and garbage wasn’t clinging to their clothes. She watched from a distance as a man pulled his own coat away from his heavy frame before draping it over a woman who already carried her own fabric close.

It wasn’t until the late 90’s when she knew affection could be something more than just a simple touch here and there. That connection had something to do with wanting to stay tangled up in the silk sheets after a quick moment of pleasure. That it was not only okay but normal, to pull her partner closer after a hapless night of drinking.

Chloe also experienced an undeniable pain two years later- something she didn’t take lightly. It was nothing akin to hell, it was past the fire that she was forged from and the lessons that she had learned before. Something that licked at her hand with blue and cruel flames as her chest ached with a crazy edge of pain.

She missed her.

The bed was empty for a while, and so were the glass bottles that lined the shelves of her studio apartment somewhere in the Mid-West. She contemplated writing everything out in her dark kitchen. She would roll up the paper and slip it into one of the empty containers of old crow before throwing it into rolling waves that crashed into the sand. But she didn’t live near the ocean, so she scrapped that idea.

Today, Chloe knew she hadn’t only fallen into Mankind, she had stumbled into it full force.

The music from the club was pounding against the inside of her brain and beating close to her eardrums like every single inch of her was alive with the sound. She couldn’t even tell what song this was, or if it had even started out as something that carried a tune; not it morphed into a mess of pumps timed out to the strobe lights that hung from the ceiling.

She was more attune to lonely bars stranded high in the mountains. Ones that had a small glowing jukebox in the corner. The red and blue lights morphed into a pale violet against the peanut-shell-coated floor. It made drinking a hell of a lot easier when she could actually hear the sound of drowning out her thoughts.

Chloe supposed that this place was okay too.

It was in the depths of New Orleans. The French Quarter was wreaking with different forms of sage, and middle-aged tour guides shoving uncomfortable contacts into their eyes to give them a red sort of tint. Demons. She scoffed to herself each time she saw one of them- no class, but then again, here she was.

Chloe wiped her thumb against the corner of her lip, catching any drops that had found a way from her grasp. She didn’t find any, but it was a terrible habit. One that carried her into the night.

Spring Break was an easy time for her to fold into the madness.

It was almost as if she didn’t have to insight the chaos. It always started on its own. Her job as a harbinger of evil had decreased greatly as the world aged. Human’s found their own way to muck things up, to find accuse in every statement and draw their own attention to the fractures in society.

Tonight, she kept her eyes on the DJ stand. Not so much the man that held an obnoxiously large pair of headphones to the side of his head as he made sense of the jumbled beats. But the woman who looked on with disdain next to her.

She followed the dusky sightline that was interrupted with a few huffs here and there; a young thing that had deep chestnut hair falling over her slumped shoulders. She was dressed in black, almost blending into the night if it weren’t for the lit up white counter that shaded her sharp features like a full moon on a smog coated night.

The girl was tapping her fingers on the edge of her empty glass in annoyance. She almost canceled out the rest of her surroundings, Chloe tracing her own features without the woman looking up. She carried the same energy that Chloe tried to desperately to leave in the early 2000’s.

“Please tell me you didn’t drag yourself to a club to glare at an ex-boyfriend?” She said.

“Huh?” The woman snapped her eyes to Chloe’s. Blue matching even bluer. “Oh, no- I”

She contemplated explaining herself, her bottom lip snagged against her teeth. She raked her eyes up Chloe’s frame, the tight-fitting jeans and equally as snug white t-shirt that clung to the woman. It was simple, a leathered jacket rolled up at the sleeves to protect from the cold air meant to balance the heat of a dance floor.

“I would never date someone who mixes music like this” She concluded, waving her hand in the air “I don’t care that we’re in New Orleans. This much trumpet is a crime.”

Chloe scoffed, barely heard over the music as she lifted her empty glass and clinked it with the stranger. She was careful not to let her hand brush against exposed skin. It wasn’t dangerous, not in the sense that this woman would fall to her demise as twelve years bad luck plagued her every waking moment.

The woman offered up a snide smile, dipping her chin slightly. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

“Oh, me?” She raised her brow “This is three drink, Chloe. You have to stick around until I hit the five-drink mark. That girl is a boatload of fun.”

“Is she now?” The stranger called over the blasting music. She almost cringed as her words ripped at her throat. “Well, does three drink Chloe know somewhere quieter to get a buzz?”

In fact, she did. She knew the city like the back of her hand. It had grown immensely in the time she had been planted on this earth. The brick buildings reached to the starry skies as twinkling lights stretched across alleyways. It gave New Orleans the distinct advantage of being stuck so solemnly in time. Aging in its own sense when it came to the nightclub scene, but still carrying the legend and charm.

She lifted her chin and made the move to stand up. This woman followed almost too willingly. She had been nursing her own drink, that much clear by the way her attention focused so fully on the sound instead of the prowess of getting wasted.

There was an immediate heir of calm the second they walked from the club. A line still wrapped around the brick edge, and a bouncer eyed them silently- but it was nothing Chloe hadn’t grown used to. Her ears were ringing, and her breath was prominent in the night air.

A brass trumpet plugged with a silencer echoed its own rendition of jazz. The sound bounced off the bricks as Chloe let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding onto. She could see the girl more clearly, memorize her facial features and take in the pure beauty of her when not under the harsh lights of the club.

“God, talk about a way to get a headache.” She brought her fingers delicately up to her temple, her voice softer now. “This is a lot better-I” Again, she stilled, flicking her eyes up. “I’m sorry.”

She knit her eyebrows together, lilting her head to the side as she closed her eyes. Chloe watched. It wasn’t like she was enjoying the silence. Instead, she was placing something, something over the dull buzz of excited teenagers ready to produce their fake ID to a man that had a neck tattoo.

“It’s Blue in Green,” Chloe finally said, a bit of a smile pulling at her lips.

“Miles Davis,” She got an excited look in her eyes as she rocked back and forth on her heels. The song had escaped her, the trumpet calling her name, it’s brass interworking nothing to overlook. The stranger swallowed thickly “That was rude of me, I just… I knew there was a reason I liked New Orleans.”

“You have an ear for music.” She said.

“If you could dare call it that.” The woman glowered, breathing in as the street performer drew out his notes. “Want to get a closer look?”

Chloe nodded, short and sweet. She would love nothing more, finding herself once again listening to the sounds of her footfalls against the near-empty streets of a city paused. Mankind was quiet tonight- quiet and loud all at once.    

#should have saved this for horror week #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fic rec #bechloe #fanfiction #request #demon au #ask

[atomkrp-blog]

WELCOME TO XAVIER’S, PARK HYUNJAE !

… loading statistics. currently aged twenty, entering first semester of xavier’s in seoul, south korea. decrypting files… mutant has the following records: strength +4, durability+6, agility +6, dexterity +2, intelligence +7. currently, he is classified under tier omega.

BACKGROUND.

The universe has a cruel sense of humour, and Park Hyunjae has always felt like a punchline.

He’s never been sure of the joke, but even from a young age it has seemed as though it has revelled in throwing adversity at him and laughing as he scrambles to deal with the consequences. The boy who wanted nothing more than to be seen and accepted for who he was transformed into an invisible man.  Even before his mutation presented itself though the deck had been stacked against him, life seeming to place an obstacle around every corner.

Though they’d like you to think otherwise, London is not the liberal bastion that it proclaims itself to be, especially not in the years before he was born. It was not kind to the poor and disadvantaged. It was not kind to immigrants. It was not kind to single mothers. His mother just so happened to be all three. Shortly after moving to the country she falls madly in love and marries a man, falls pregnant with Hyunjae, and mere months later the father passes away in a traffic accident. She stays strong though; she has to for the sake of her child. Rather than support from the community though, she is met with nothing but disdain and distrust.

Hyunjae is born as a perfectly normal, decidedly average baby. Looking at him then you would not have been able to guess that he harboured a mutant gene. The early years of his life are largely a blur; he doesn’t remember much. His mother works three jobs, scrubbing floors, waiting tables and doing whatever else she can to desperately try and make ends meet. She was often absent, leaving him with a revolving cast of babysitters who paid him little attention, but her deep rooted care for her son was always obvious. Her eyes scream of exhaustion and desperation, but her mouth always curls into a smile and hides the struggle: a technique that he’s come to adopt as his own.

It was a happy, if slightly lonely childhood. Until school it had been a sheltered life, but suddenly he is surrounded by people who seem to care, to find him interesting. They don’t glare at him and mumble under their breath, they don’t call him every name under the sun, they’re just… nice. It takes him about a week to fall completely in love with the spotlight, the feeling of being liked, after which he makes it his mission to be the centre of attention at all times.

To begin with it works. Everyone loves him, the class clown with a smart mouth who will do just about anything to get a laugh. As time passes and they grow older the mood begins to sour. There are some that still laugh, but there are an equal number who sneer and see him as lesser. Maybe it’s because he comes from a poorer background, maybe it’s because he’s the child of an immigrant, or maybe it’s because they find his personality overbearing. Perhaps it’s a mixture of all three, or none of them at all. Either way, it’s enough to cause him to slowly withdraw back into his shell and shelter alongside his little group of outcasts who are also treated as lesser for whatever reason.

He first begins to come to terms with his sexuality when he’s fourteen years old. Looking back now he can’t even remember the boy’s name, but the slightest hint of a smile was enough to hypnotise him. At first it confuses him, terrifies him, fills him with shame. It’s not a topic that has ever been discussed in his house, but it’s one that he’s almost certain would garner nothing but repulsion from his mother. And so the feelings are repressed. But no matter how deeply he pushes them down they pop back up like a perpetual game of whack a mole. Over the years he learns to deal with them, accepting the reality and debating whether or not he’ll ever be able to act on them.

He’s already lost one parent, he can’t lose another. It’s a small sacrifice to make in his mind.

The first time he has the courage to make a move he’s sixteen years old. That same boy with the quiet voice, the wide-eyed innocence and that damn smile is pulled aside, everything is laid on the line and, much to his surprise, he isn’t shunned. In fact, quite the opposite. Events transpire and the two wind up in a relationship.

If the universe is cruel though, teenagers are downright sadistic.

It turns out that they’d only needed a stick to beat him with in order to make his life a misery, and his sexuality was a metaphorical baseball bat. By this point he’s largely estranged from his peers, barely existing outside of his tiny friendship group who exist firmly on the outskirts. Perhaps they had not been quite careful enough in concealing their affection for one another, or perhaps it was just an idle rumour dreamed up by someone with nothing better to do with their time, but the relationship became public knowledge or at the least speculation. Whereas before it had simply been whispers behind backs and mocking words, it now developed to full on harassment. Things got physical on more than one occasion but he refused to bow to it or sink to their level and fight back.

The cycle of harassment repeats, each time worse than the last. By his seventeenth birthday he’s become a mater of hiding bruises and putting on a brave face, pretending that nothing is wrong. A week after, they get another stick.

During one of the now regular beatings, his mutation finally reveals itself. Pinned to the ground struggling desperately to get free before the next blow to is ribs is delivered, terror flashes across his features just before they vanish. His urgent pleading remains, as do the clothes still attempting to thrash loose, but in the place of his head is only sidewalk. They recoil, confused, as the clothes float upwards and speed away.

Hyunjae doesn’t know what has happened. He doesn’t know why they stumbled back in horror and let him free, and he doesn’t intend to stick around to find out. Instead he heads for home as fast as his legs will carry him, heavy breathing matching every frantic step until he reaches the door. It slams behind him, and he lets out a sigh of relief before painting on his usual happy face and calling out to greet his mother before she rushes to her next shift. When she emerges from the kitchen her smile turns to a look of abject horror.

She screams. She passes out.

Panic takes over as he rushes to her side, pulling his phone from his pocket to call emergency services. And then, in reflected in the darkened glass, he finally notices.

He doesn’t have a head. Or arms. Or legs. He’s just a floating pile of clothes.

He screams. He passes out.

Needless to say that when he awakes he has questions. As does his mother, who is currently backed against the wall with a carving knife pointed in his direction. The sound of his heart cracking fills the room. Turns out that it was never going to be his sexuality that tore his family apart. A glance down confirms that he’s visible once more and remains so as he tries to speak to her. “Someone must have put something in the water, we were hallucinating” he says. “What have you done with my boy?” She says.  “I don’t know what’s happening. I need my mom.” He cries. “Monster.” She cries back.

Eventually she’s talked down, though disgust is still evident on her features. He’s permitted to stay, but they are not to be in the house at the same time. They don’t speak. She won’t even refer to him by name anymore, and in fact he’s fairly certain that she tells people that he’s left town or died. School isn’t a priority, and he cuts himself off from the world almost entirely. The battery is removed from his phone, the boy isn’t spoken to again and his friends are left in the dark. He drops off of the face of the earth.

Over time he manages to maintain some control over his powers. The idea of being a mutant doesn’t repulse him; in fact, it fascinates him. He learns how to become invisible on command and that he’s also capable of hiding his clothes with enough focus. Days are spent blinking in and out of existence, hiding himself when the house is occupied so that he doesn’t have to leave. The world can’t hurt him in his bedroom he reasons.

His mother can though, with a knock on his door in the middle of the night startling enough to cause him to shift. Again, he doesn’t realize until he swings the door open and her face swells with a mixture of nausea and shame. His heart hits the floor, crashing through when he hears the words. Paperwork is shoved into his hands as she stares directly through him. “You’re on a flight to Seoul tomorrow. These people help…. Things like you. They might be able to fix you, bring my son back.”

“And if they can’t, don’t come back here.”

Which brings us to now. He’s a stranger in a strange land with nobody to turn to and armour-plated walls built around himself. A hermit with no idea what he’s doing, not sure what he’s supposed to do or even what he wants to. Still the façade of happiness that he’s spent so long painstakingly painting remains though. He has to seem strong, as though nothing is wrong, because humans prey on weakness, and they are nothing if not a cruel species.

He’s fine. Because he has to be.

But really he’s crumbling, barely holding himself together. Because he can’t handle much more.

MUTATION.

Hyunjae’s mutation allows him to become completely invisible, making himself undetectable by the human eye. This allows him to remain undetected by others and to move around an environment unnoticed. He also possesses limited cloaking abilities, allowing him to render select objects, and in certain cases other people, invisible as well.

STRENGTHS.

Completely Invisible – Hyunjae is able to render himself completely invisible instantaneously. This means that others are unable to see him or observe his movements. In this state he can move at a normal speed and act normally whilst remaining completely undetected. Whilst this mutation does not lend itself to combat, it makes him an excellent stealth and recon asset.

Limited Cloaking – As well as being able to render himself invisible, Hyunjae has developed (limited) cloaking abilities, allowing him to also make objects and, in exceptional circumstances, other people invisible. Physical contact must be maintained at all times and the larger the object the greater the drain on his stamina.

Stealth Combat – Though he is not an especially gifted fighter and would rather use his abilities to avoid conflict, Hyunjae is able to maintain invisibility during combat, even after receiving a direct hit. He is still extremely vulnerable to damage, but being invisible makes him a harder target to strike and goes some way to making up for his lack of strength.

WEAKNESSES.

Deteriorating Vision – Hyunjae’s mutation has wreaked havoc on his vision, and each time he becomes invisible it becomes ever so slightly worse. His eyes absorb considerably less light when in his invisible state, and as such have become damaged over time leading to the need for extremely strong prescription glasses. If he remains in his invisible state for too long he risks temporary (Or potentially permanent) blindness.

Unreliable Cloaking – His cloaking abilities are extremely limited and often unreliable. He can only cloak an object whilst invisible himself, and only with focus. The larger the object, the more focus and energy required. At present he is able to cloak his clothes and glasses for up to three hours, an object up to one cubic meter for half an hour, or another person for ten minutes.

Detectable – Invisible does not mean undetectable. He does not cast a shadow, but weather conditions such as rain or snow will real his shape and he still leaves footprints. If he is severely injured and for example leaving a blood trail It will also be visible. Sound is also not dampened in any way.

Triggered by emotion / adrenaline – Hyunjae can trigger his invisibility at will, but it will also flare up without warning when he experiences a rush of adrenaline or a strong emotional response to outside stimulus. Embarrassment, fear and anger seem to be the two most common causes but it is not limited to these. This is, at present, completely beyond his control

Detectable by technology – There have been a handful of times when Hyunjae was able to render himself undetectable by technology, but for the most past his power is only effective against organics. He is visible to cameras and most security systems, as well as when exposed to infrared, ultraviolet, x-rays, etc.

Coverage – Hyunjae’s ability is very much an all or nothing affair. He cannot make only a specific part of his body or an object, such as a hand or an arm, invisible. This means that it is a greater drain on his stamina.

Physically Draining – Maintaining invisibility takes a toll on Hyunjae, and retaining it over an extended period rapidly drains his stamina. As a general rule he should be visible for at least one hour for every hour spent invisible. At present he can remain invisible for up to six hours before exhaustion hits, and can cloak small objects for up to three. Though he can exceed this in a pinch, his powers will be unreliable and may short out at any given moment. He will also take considerably longer to recharge after over-exerting himself, typically through sleep.

#at:profile #tw homophobia #tw bullying #tw violence #tw emotional neglect

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up: July/August

Playlist

“Mama Tried” by Merle Haggard (The Mars Room)

“Summer of Sam” by Lana del Rey (Sharp Objects)

“Keep Searchin’” by Del Shannon (Those Girls)

“No One Knows” by Dion and the Belmonts (Fortune’s Lady)

“Unpretty” by TLC (90s Bitch)

“Everybody’s Got the Right to Love” by the Supremes (Fool Me Twice)

“Loving Arms” by the Dixie Chicks (East)

“Spare Parts” by Bruce Springsteen (Joe College)

“You Said You Loved Me” from Bloody Blackbeard (Tomorrow and Forever)

“Hot in Herre” by Nelly (Miss Wonderful)

“Growin’ Up” by David Bowie (The Charm School)

“Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye (The Beggar Maid)

“Henry Lee” by Georgia Fireflies (Fairest)

Best of the Bi-Month

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (2006): Troubled journalist Camille Preaker returns to her claustrophobic Missouri hometown to report on the brutal murders of two teenage girls. The gruesome nature of her assignment is only matched by the cruelty and senselessness that fills her childhood home. Flynn marries a beautifully constructed plot with a wealth of distressingly vivid details, and the result is unforgettable. It’s like if V.C. Andrews had cared about being a more conventionally “good” writer. (No disrespect meant to V.C. Andrews, who didn’t really need to be any better, but she very much did her own thing re: plot and style.) Also, I love Camille a lot.

Worst of the Bi-Month

Fairest by Marissa Meyer (2015): In this prequel to The Lunar Chronicles, Princess Levana leads a luxurious existence on the moon colony ruled by her family, but lives in fear of her sadistic sister and believes she can never be loved because of the terrible scars hidden beneath her glamor. Her desperation for affection and validation eventually turns her into the Evil Moon Queen of the series proper, or something like that. Levana is probably meant to be a lonely, misguided girl who slowly descends into evil due to a barrage of disappointments, or else a conscienceless rapist (yes, rapist) whose suffering renders her somewhat pitiable. I honestly can’t tell, but the result is incoherent, to say the least. 

Rest of the Bi-Month

The Charm School by Susan Wiggs (1999): In 1850s Boston, painfully awkward spinster Isadora Peabody decides to leave her stifling, shallow family and work as a navigator/translator on a clipper ship, much to the frustration (at first!) of its raucous captain. This is a rollicking  romance with a nice Old Hollywood feel, partly because it owes a lot to Now, Voyager. Isadora’s character development is engaging, and there’s some interesting social commentary about the damaging effects of being forced to perform femininity.

The Beggar Maid by Alice Munro (1977): In this collection of short stories, Rose grows up poor and unshielded from the sordid realities of her mid-century Canadian town. Education and marriage change her life almost beyond recognition, and then she changes it again of her own volition. Munro’s descriptions are so perfect that I barely ever had to make an effort to imagine what anything looked like, and her observations about people are uncomfortably accurate. The stories become a little too sedate in the last quarter of the collection, though.

Joe College by Tom Perrotta (2000): Working-class Yale student Danny, equally at sea with his carelessly rich classmates and hostile townie coworkers, runs into even more trouble during a spring break spent driving his father’s lunch truck. Although the story takes a while to get started, it features several terrific setpieces (notably a dinner hosted by a classmate’s personally charming, politically heartless father) and has a thought-provoking ending.

Fortune’s Lady by Patricia Gaffney (1989): In 1790s England, Cass Merlin’s father is hanged as a Jacobin traitor, leaving her disgraced and practically alone in the world. Recruited/blackmailed into acting as a honeypot for a suspected Jacobin ringleader, she doesn’t expect to fall for Philip Riordan, her fellow spy, but you know how these things go. This is probably my favorite of all the Old School romances I’ve read. It has a fun if overly lurid plot inspired by Notorious, a compelling if occasionally idiot-ball-carrying heroine, and a hero who is only occasionally terrible. On the other hand, the villain is a bisexual who hates Edmund Burke, which (a) is kind of offensive and (b) makes it really hard for me, a bisexual who hates Edmund Burke, to hate him.

The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner (2018): Romy, a single mother and stripper from San Francisco, ends up serving two consecutive life sentences in maximum security prison after killing her stalker. This novel pissed me the fuck off, not because it’s bad, but because it showcases the blatant unfairness of the justice system for indigent defendants and the proudly heartless attitude that many people have towards prisoners. Kushner has a terrific style and makes lots of references to 1960s country music, which I appreciate, but she loses steam about two-thirds into the book.

90s Bitch by Allison Yarrow (2018): Pushing back against the wave of nineties nostalgia, Yarrow details the sexism rampant in the decade’s politics and media, covering topics like the Clarence Thomas sexual harassment controversy, the downfall of Tonya Harding, Dan Quayle’s war on Murphy Brown, and the watered-down feminism of the Spice Girls. Yarrow’s account is entertaining as the subject matter is infuriating, but I wish she’d spent more time establishing how the eighties were any less sexist, because that doesn’t sound quite right.

East by Edith Pattou (2003): Ebba-Rose grows up happy with her large family on their early modern Norwegian farm, until poverty, illness, and the exposure of a big lie threaten to end it all. Then a polar bear shows up at the door and offers to fix everything in return for Rose coming to live with him--an offer that Rose feels compelled to take not just out of desperation, but out of wanderlust. I’m not that familiar with “East of the Sun, West of the Moon,” but this seems to be a fairly straightforward retelling. It’s charming, though, and it really picks up after the candle incident.

Miss Wonderful by Loretta Chase (2004): Threatened with financial consequences if he doesn’t marry an heiress within a year, Napoleonic war veteran Alistair Carsington says “fuck that” and goes into the canal-building business with a friend in order to come up with the necessary cash. However, going into the canal business brings him into contact with the bewitching Mirabel Oldridge, who fucking hates the idea of a canal running through her village. This Regency romance turned out to be a lot sadder than I thought it would be--the hero and heroine spend just as much time dealing with PTSD and grief for a parent, respectively, as they do bantering--and it was a richer story for all of that. The start was pretty slow, though, and I could’ve done without the disdain for the lower class.

Fool Me Twice by Meredith Duran (2014): Desperate for safety, Olivia Holladay cons her way into a housekeeping position at the Duke of Marwick’s house, hoping to find letters that will keep her murderous stalker off her back forever. Then she becomes way too invested in the welfare of the duke, who has become agoraphobic and borderline feral after his wife’s sudden death. This Victorian romance had an even slower start than Miss Wonderful, and I never got a coherent sense of the heroine’s personality; she’s a combination of prim goody-goody and wily con artist, and those two sides never really gel. I did like the conclusion, and Duran’s style is excellent as ever.

Tomorrow and Forever by Maud B. Johnson (1980): Tricked into boarding a bride ship and brutalized by Blackbeard’s pirates, New England girl Marley Lancaster finally finds love with Captain Bates Hagen after they’re set adrift in a dinghy together. They start a new life in Bath, North Carolina, but can it survive the fact that Bates is kind of a dirtbag? I rather enjoyed this Old School romance, partly because of the unusual setting and partly because I just liked the heroine. She’s kind of weak-willed and not very good at solving problems, but she struggles through life anyway and I really rooted for her. Bates, for his part, is...not a rapist. He’s actually the least rapey man in the story, which is how it should be, right? Still, he’s a dirtbag who ditches his common-law wife in a hostile colonial town and seems affronted when she doesn’t stay put. Plus I feel like only half the rapes in the story were narratively necessary.

Those Girls by Chevy Stevens (2015): Three sisters flee their rural Canadian home after the youngest kills their abusive father, only to face more horrible violence from men. Years later, after they’ve started a new life in Vancouver, the past reemerges and, you guessed it, there is more horrible violence. I finished this book and asked myself, “Is a woman made to suffer?” Like, I obviously read a lot about women suffering (see: most of this list), but this whole story is just women suffering, briefly trying to get revenge, and suffering more because of the revenge. 

[wellhellotragic]

Of Wolves and Lambs 7/?

Summary: Killian Jones has known a lifetime’s worth of pain. He’s lost everyone he’s ever cared about, but when the love of his life is murdered, he vows that nothing will stop him from getting his revenge. Even if it means losing his soul to do so.

What starts off as a simple quest for revenge turns into a world filled with secrets and lies. Nothing is what he thought, and no one seems to be who he thought.

Rating: E (and that’s not E for everyone)

A/N: Where the fun begins

The week following Emma’s passing was a blur. Killian had been banned by David from helping plan the funeral, or from even attending it for that matter. Killian was angry of course, but he understood it as his penance. It was his fault that she was gone.

Emma had passed early on a Tuesday morning. Killian had gone home and opened a bottle of rum, finishing the bottle before midday. He barely managed to stumble from his dinning table to his couch. He refused to sleep in his bed, in their bed. Granted, he and Emma hadn’t lived together, but they had spent every night for the last month wrapped in each other’s arms. He had hoped in a few months, he could broach the subject with Emma, but that would never happen.

Instead the room was spinning around him as he curled up on his couch, trying not to think about movie nights that had turned into make-out sessions on that sofa.

Emma was everywhere. She was apart of everything he touched, from the plates they ate on at breakfast, to the toilet paper she insisted need to be folded over, not under.

He laid there waiting for the liqueur to consume him, and he didn’t have to wait long. He slept through Tuesday. When he rose Wednesday morning, he walked back into the kitchen repeated the actions from the morning before. The last thought he had before he passed out again was that if he kept this up, maybe he could drink himself to death to join her.

On Thursday there was a knock on the door that refused to quit. He rose from his spot and struggled to make it to the door. When he opened it, he was taken aback at the bright light streaming in from the opening. He had drawn the curtains shut after he got the note, trying to block out any prying eyes. He had no clue if it was day or night up until now.

When his eyes finally adjusted he found a man in a black business suit waiting for him. He raised his hand in front of him to block out the afternoon sun and squinted at the man, not saying a word.

“Killian Jones?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” His voice was rough from disuse.

“My name is Mark Miller. I’m with Royston and Howard.”

“And you’re here because,” Killian trailed off, his words not really a question as much as an annoyed request for more information.

“I’m here regarding the estate of a Miss Emma Swan. The official reading of her will is later today, but per her request, I’m to discuss this with you privately as not to upset other parties.”

Killian had a fairly good idea of who the other said party was, although he couldn’t imagine what Emma could have left him that would upset David, especially considering that at the time David wouldn’t have known about them, and further more depending on when she had set everything up, there may not even have been a ‘them’ yet.

Killian stepped aside motioning with his head for the man to enter, closing the door behind him. The man stopped abruptly waiting for Killian to lead the way. As they entered his dinning room, he pulled out a chair for the man to sit. He collected two empty rum bottles and the one glass he had used on the first morning. On the second morning he chose to forgo the tumbler and drank straight from the bottle instead. He took the bottles to the kitchen and set them down on the counter before returned and taking a seat across from the man.

Already waiting for him at the table was a green folder. Killian moved to open it when the man spoke again.

“Miss swan bequeathed a portion of her estate to her brother. That includes all of her property here in Boston, her home, her car, and some money. She also left him anything that originally belonged to her adopted mother such as jewelry and keepsakes.”

Killian nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Emma left all of her stuff to David, but wondered what could have been left for him. Emma wasn’t overly sentimental.

“Her estate was quite sizable,” the man continued. “Based on my interactions with her, I assume that her wealth was a well-kept secret.”

Killian’s curiosity was peaked. Emma was a foster child that came to the Nolan’s with nothing but a small suitcase of clothing from what he understood. Her work before returning to Boston was for a non-profit, not exactly a career that paid well.

“I’m not sure how much you knew about Miss Swan’s beginnings.” He paused attempting to gauge Killian’s reactions. “Her first adoptive mother came from a very affluent background. Having no family remaining, she left everything to her daughter, Miss Swan. At the time, she was just a child, so the estate was left in a trust until Miss Swan came of age.”

That was surprising. Emma didn’t speak of Ingrid Swan often, but when she did it was always with affection. When she did talk about her, the memories she shared with him were very domestic, like baking cookies, or having picnics in the park. Add to that the fact that Emma’s tastes had always been simple, he just always assumed that it was because that’s all they could afford.

“Miss Swan left you the remainder of her estate, as well as a letter explaining herself. You’ll find that letter in the folder. I have some documents I need you to sign in order to have the deed to the property transferred into your name. There was a separate trust established to pay the estate taxes and well as the upkeep of the property, so you need not worry about any of that.”

He passed over a small stack of papers. “You’ll just need to sign next to the blue tabs.”

As Killian turned through the pages, signing on each dotted line without reading what he was singing, he was taken aback when he got to the last page. Right above the final signature line was Emma’s signature. His hand shook as he scribbled out his name before pushing the stack back over to the lawyer across from him.

The man took the papers and returned them to his briefcase. He then paused for a moment taking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly before pulling out a large manila envelope. “She also left you this, with the instructions that you be alone when you open it.”

He slid the envelope across the table and stood up. “I’ll see myself out now. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The man walked away and a few seconds later Killian heard the front door open and close. He remained seated almost in shock. He was trying to process everything that had just happened. Emma had a whole part of her life that she had kept secret from everyone, including him. She had also chosen to leave most of it to him.

He moved the envelope aside, deciding to look through the folder first. He pulled out a folded note and flipped through the contents of the folder. It was gorgeous. There were photographs of a large mansion surrounded by a gated-in garden. Behind the mansion stood a large stable.

He was breathless. He picked the note back up and read it. It was written in Emma’s own writing and dated the day Emma left Boston the first time. She had left this for him over a decade ago. The shock had returned. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by the fact that a teenage Emma Swan had thought ahead enough to prepare a will or that she had left him so much, before they had even dated.

Killian,

You’ll probably find it a bit odd that I’ve left you this. Knowing you, you’ll likely find it strange that I’ve left you anything at all. I have to admit that it is odd, but not as much as you may believe. Listen to me, I’m rambling on, something I only find myself doing when you’re involved. I feel that we have a connection, kindred spirits. You understand me better than anyone ever has, through no fault of their own. You know what it’s like to lose the people you love, to understand what it means to feel alone. Perhaps that is why I’ve left this for you.

Ingrid was my first home. She made me feel wanted and loved. With her, I never wanted for anything. Her affection was all I could have ever desired. When I lost her, I lost the only family I had ever known. I was bounced from place to place after that, and even after David found me and brought me into his home, I had never felt that connection with anyone again. Don’t misunderstand me, he’s a good man, and he saved me. Him and Ruth both, and for that I will forever be grateful, but it wasn’t until you came into my life that I finally began to feel a little less lonely. In a strange way, you gave me a little bit of that feeling again, that feeling of being home.

You told me that it was your dream to build boats of all kinds. You were so passionate as you spoke; I’ve never seen you smile so much. I think that this place, this town in Storybrooke Maine, could help you. You’ll find that there is a large stable behind the main compound. It hasn’t been used in years and sits empty. I believe that with some modifications, it would make an ideal workshop for you to build in. The property leads to a lovely portion of the coastline. There once was a dock, but as the years passed I fear the dock may be in disrepair. I believe you’ll find that there is more than enough money for you to repair it though, and to start living your dream.

I wish I could be there to see you realize your potential. I have no doubt that you’ll be amazing, no matter what you decide to become.

Emma Swan

Killian could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks. They had discussed his ambitions late one evening after she had come home from tutoring August. Emma was a sponge when it came to knowledge and literature, and he was curious about what she wanted to be. Selfishly, he wanted to see if her dreams could align with his in any way. She had shrugged him off saying that she hadn’t really considered it, and asked him what he wanted to do instead.

He explained that his father was a retired navel officer, and that his brother had recently joined as well, but his passion was the ship itself. It took real skill and artistry to build a boat from scratch. The conversation quickly shifted when David came home from a date, and he couldn’t believe that she had remembered it.

As his eyes scanned the note again, he noticed that there was more writing underneath her signature in different colored ink.

P.S.

Killian Jones. After all of these years and all of the distance time has brought between us, we somehow seemed to have found our way back to each other. I know that the years have not been kind to you, and you’ve lost far more than anyone should ever endure. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. If I know you as well as I think I do, you feel as if building boats was simply the childish dream of a young boy who knew nothing of the world. I like to believe though, that it was the hope of a bright young man, who was lucky enough not to have been beaten down by the world yet. Please don’t let yourself lose that spark that I found all those years ago. I love you.

Killian allowed the floodgates to open at those last three words. Emma had never said them aloud to him. He believed she might have felt it, hoped she did, but was scared to push, scared to be the first to express his feelings to her. He had been pinning for her for years, but they had only actually been dating for a month.

He felt the urge to grab another bottle of rum and down it in one gulp, but fought it. This isn’t what Emma would have wanted for him. Instead, he pushed aside the note and folder and placed his attention on the envelope. It had his name written on the outside, but no other clues as to what it might hold.

Curiosity got the best of him as he tore it open. Inside he found a smaller envelope and another handwritten note. He read the note first, wondering if it was another gift from the heart.

Killian-

I once asked you if it was better for someone to be heartbroken over a lie or to be shattered by the truth. You told me that in the end, it wasn’t my choice to make. The choice should be left to the person involved. At the time I thought that you weren’t ready, but perhaps it was me that wasn’t ready. I was afraid that if I told you, I would lose you. How does that saying go? “None love the messenger that brings bad news.” Part of me thought that perhaps it would be better to take this secret to the grave, but as you said, the choice has never been mine. Forgive me for my cowardice in allowing the truth to be delivered to you this way. Make your choice.

Emma

That was hardly what he was expecting. When Emma had brought it up the first time, it had been a peculiar night. The group had been at David’s house celebrating Dave’s birthday. Killian and Emma had spent most of the evening playing drinking games as a team against David and Mary-Margaret. He had left to grab more beer out of the kitchen when he saw August out of the corner of his eye walking in through the front door. When he returned to the living room August and Emma were gone.

He waited for a while for them to return, trying to think about anything other than the possibly taking advantage of one of the empty rooms. Ever since Emma’s had returned almost seven months before they had been almost inseparable again, just like when they were teenagers. She had told him before that they were only friends, but perhaps she had realized her feelings for him when she was gone. The idea of them together made him queasy.

After about twenty minutes he decided to look for them. He started upstairs checking each of the bedrooms and bathrooms, but the only people he found upstairs were Victor and Ruby, a vision he wanted nothing more than to purge from his mind. He moved downstairs checking each room but still found nothing. Finally he made his way to the front door.

Through the peephole, he saw them outside on the front porch. August was looking down to the ground sheepishly while Emma was speaking with her hands animatedly. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked as if she was yelling at him.

It wasn’t until she threw her arm out pointing towards his car that August finally looked up at her, and Killian could have sworn that he saw August crying. August turned dejectedly and drove away as Emma sat down on a rocking chair on the porch.

Killian waited a moment so it wouldn’t be obvious that he had been spying on her. Eventually he made his way outside and into the empty rocking chair next to hers. He asked if she was all right and she remained silent for a long time. When she spoke up, her voice was soft and defeated.

“He’s just an idiot,” she said.

They sat in silence for ten minutes before he spoke up asking her if she wanted to talk about it. She shrugged her shoulders. He asked if August had cheated on her. Something about the fight had seemed like a lover quarrel, like there was betrayal beyond friendship. She told him it was something like that. The silence returned before she simply stated that he had done the one thing she could never forgive him for. Killian wanted to press her, but he knew she was done. Instead he reached out and offered her his beer, which she gratefully accepted.

As she swallowed the final sip, she spoke up. “Jones, can I ask you a question?”

He nodded and she continued. “If you had a choice, would you rather believe a lie that caused you pain, or would you rather know the truth, even if it were more devastating?”

He lifted his eyebrows thinking it over. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess it would depend on the lie, and the person involved. Everyone’s different.”

She nodded thinking it over. Before they could speak of it anymore, she rose from her seat and took his hand. “Enough of this Jones. There’s a party in there and you and I have a title to defend.” She gave him a small smile and pulled him inside.

As he went to bed that night he thought of her question. He wondered if it was about her and August. Was the lie that they were happy, and the devastating truth that he had hurt her?

Now with the note and small envelope in his hand, he knew it was about him somehow, and that she was trying to gauge his reaction that night. What could she have known that involved him and August Booth. They only ever spoke when Emma was around.

He had been lied to, and apparently took it at face value. It was something that Emma realized had hurt him, but he couldn’t fathom what it was. He was living blissfully unaware of whatever the contents of the envelope were. Did he really want to shatter the illusion knowing that it would only bring him pain?

He thought it over. He was already in pain, and nothing could possibly make him feel worse. If he were going to do it, now was the time. He ripped the top of the envelope off and dumped the contents onto the table. It was police and medical reports.

The first document he picked up was a police report. As he read it, his stomach dropped. It was the report from Milah’s car accident. The report stated that Milah had been in the car with another person when the car crashed, nothing he didn’t already know. It was the next part that stood out for him though. The driver was none other that August. Why would August and Milah have been in a car together?

The next piece of paper he picked up was a medical report with an ultrasound attached. Killian knew that Milah was with child. She had called him up two week before her death to inform him that she had just discovered they were twelve weeks pregnant. He was overjoyed at the thought of fatherhood, and had decided that that would be his final deployment. He had left Milah alone enough, and wanted to be there to raise the child. It's what had made losing Milah so much worse, knowing that he hadn’t just lost a fiancé, but a family, their child too.

He scanned the ultrasound, taking note of some numbers that had been circled in sharpie marker. Eight weeks. The ultra sound was an eight week reading. He looked at the date of the ultrasound, the same day Milah had called him. Had she been mistaken?

The realization hit him like a truck. Twelve weeks. He had been deployed twelve weeks. Milah had told him that the child must have been conceived the night before he left. They had been having issues. Milah was upset that he was gone so often leaving her alone with his friends in Boston. Milah had been his refuge after Liam died. When he suggested moving back to Boston, she jumped at the chance stating it would be an adventure. He had already left the navy and joined the elite Special Reconnaissance Regiment, or SRR team. He tried to leave it behind once they moved, but something kept calling him to return to his unit.

After each deployment, he promised he was done, only to feel the pull again. They had argued about it often. Everything came to a head one night while they were over at David’s house eating dinner. The four of them were cleaning the table after eating. Everyone was in the kitchen and he had returned to grab the last dish when a picture caught his eye.

It was the same one he had seen the first time he had come over with David. He had his fingers to the photo tracing Emma’s face, wondering where she was, what she was doing when Milah found him. She went ballistic, saying that she was tired of always coming in second to his career, and now second to a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

He and Milah fought over it for weeks, and she brought up Emma during each bout. Right before Killian had left that last time, he and Milah finally had it out, laying all of their cards on the table. They had decided that they wanted to try and make it work. That was the night he thought they had conceived.

Twelve weeks he had been gone. If the ultrasound really was an eight-week reading, it couldn’t possibly have been his child.

He picked up the finally piece of paper, which revealed what he had come to suspect. Emma had somehow gotten a hold of the autopsy report, which contained DNA results. She had sent off for an independent test using one of August’s hairs for comparison, and the results showed that August was in fact the father.

Killian bolted for the kitchen and began retching into the sink. For the second time he had been fooled into believing he was going to be a father. Emma was right, the lie was nothing compared to the devastation of the truth.

Emma.

She had known this whole time and never told him. She kept it from him. He felt the betrayal simmering into a full on rage. Every woman he had loved betrayed him. He reached into the cabinet grabbing the last bottle of liquor in his house. Whisky. Emma’s whisky.

He yanked the stopper out and began chugging, wanting nothing more than to dull the emotions rushing within him. He was almost through with the bottle when another knock came from the front door.

He stumbled to it, nearly ripping the door off the hinges as he opened it. He found Colonel French standing in front of him. He didn’t even wait for him to speak before turning and walking away leaving the door open behind him.

His head already felt like someone had split it open with a hatchet but he grabbed the bottle and continued to drink.

“Jones,” he said warningly. “I came her with a proposition for you, but perhaps you’re not the man I thought you were if your current state is anything to go by.”

Killian gave him a sly smile before stumbling back over to the couch taking in the final drops of amber. “Well you’ll have to forgive me for this drunken foolishness but I’ve just discovered that my whole life has been a lie.” Killian’s accent was thickened with drink.

“I see. Well not to bastardize Shakespeare but there are more things in heaven and earth, Jones, than you could ever dream of.”

Killian laughed. “Is there a point to your wax poetic?”

“The point Jones,” Colonel spat back at him, “is that at some point you’re going to realize that things aren’t always what they seem. There are things at play here beyond your comprehension. I was hoping to open your eyes a bit, to one fact in particular that would have brought you a small piece of,” he paused trying to pick his next words wisely, “closure. I can see now that you’re not ready for that yet though. When you manage to pull yourself together come find me. I promise you’ll find what I have to offer worth your while.”

Killian heard the door shut again before passing out. When he woke again, two days had passed. It was Saturday, and Emma’s funeral. Killian had slept through the service, but Ruby had sent him a text stating that they were about to head out to the cemetery.

Killian didn’t even bother to shower or make himself decent. Instead he grabbed his keys and walked out the door still wearing the clothes he had put on five days ago. As he drove, he contemplated all of the events of the week. His anger rose and he was ready for a fight. He pulled up to the cemetery leaving his truck parked behind a row of other cars.

He stormed up to the grave site taking in all of the people present, looking for once face in particular. He found it in the front row standing next to Emma’s coffin. He didn’t even think before he charged at August grabbing him by the front of his jacket.

Everyone was caught of guard. Before he could get in a punch though, the arms of Phillip and Victor were pulling him off of August.

“I’m going to kill you,” he raved.

“Killian,” Phillip tried to whisper in his ear. “Not here, not now.”

He ignored him. “So what, you think it’s okay to sleep with another man’s fiancé. You think it’s okay to knock her up and then pretend like nothing happened?”

He heard gasps coming from the crowd.

“Killian, please don’t do this, not in front of everyone,” August pleaded. “We’re here for Emma right now.”

Killian let out an insane cackle. “Are you serious? You slept with Milah and knocked her up. And as for Emma, she knew and lied to me about it. She never gave a damn about me so why should I give a shit about her?” He couldn’t stop the words for pouring from his mouth fueled by his wrath.

The fist collided with his jaw before he even saw it coming and he was on the ground. He wanted to get up and return the favor but two sets of arms kept him pinned down to the ground.

He felt himself being rolled over as cold metal clamped down over his wrists. One thing he had failed to consider would be that many of Boston’s finest would be in attendance to support David. As he was dragged away and loaded into a cop car, he couldn’t help but wonder how his life had become such a wreck in such a short amount of time.

After sitting in jail for a day, Killian was fully sobered up and able to take stock of himself. After Ruby came to pick him up after August agreed not to press charges, she dropped him off at his house. Killian was surprised when she didn’t ask him about what had happened. Instead she told him that he needed to get his shit together, starting with a shower.

It had been two weeks since Emma had passed. It had been ten days since Killian had drank, ten excruciatingly long days. His anger had dwindled, replaced by shame and self-loathing. As angry as he had been at Emma, he never meant to disrupt her funeral. He hated himself for it.

He had avoided all of his friends, not that any of them had really sought him out after his outburst. It was when Robin had called on day eight asking if he was really coming back that Killian finally felt the pull, having nothing left keeping him in Boston. His affairs had been seen to, his bags packed and his ticket booked.

The flight to London was longer than he remembered as he put as much distance between him and Boston as possible. He stayed in London for one night before moving on to join Will and Robin in Qatar to join the search for the Alchemist.

He stepping back into the arid desert being bombarded by wave after wave of heat. As he took the last step he caught site of a familiar face and lifted his arm up to embrace him.

“Good to see you, Robin.”

“Same to you, Jones,” Robin smiled back.

“Oi, what am I? Chopped liver?” came Will’s snarky reply.

The two gave a manly hug before they lead the way to Killian’s bunk. He quickly dropped off his bags before they directed him to a building containing a small conference room that they had overtaken. It the room, boards had been set up with all of the information they had ever gathered on the Alchemist and Alice. One board was just pictures with string webbing connecting all of the major players they knew.

Killian walked over to it looking over everything, familiarizing himself again. He looked at the Alchemists face. His brown beady eyes and wavy brown hair stared back at him. Next to his photo was one of Alice with the words deceased written above it. He took in the woman before him and his breath hitched. The nose was slightly different, just enough, and she had been wearing a black wig, but he would have recognized those emerald green eyes anywhere.

“Emma?”

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story 108

I always felt like I was walking between a tightrope of greatness and failure. My ego always felt too large or too small. My mind had become a very difficult thing to balance alone, and by this time I had absolutely nobody I could really talk to. Josh and Whitney fought. I remember listening to a lot of their fights since Whitney's room was right next to my own. Whitney often shrieked at Josh and said his name over and over. Josh mumbled cold things back that I never could hear very well. It seemed chaotic, but after awhile I realized it was almost a game between the two of them, because Whitney would scream at Josh to go away, so he would start to go away, and then she would scream his name for him to come back. And then they would fight more, but they would go out on the porch and share a cigarette as they did so.

I guess I felt like a child in their presence. Here I was, fresh out of a sad dark tunnel that had been my life, a young girl in my early twenties. I had never had a boyfriend to even fight with, let alone an ex. I was still a virgin. I didn't smoke or drink or do drugs. I didn't even drive a car. Nobody knew me except for a small handful of people that had decided that I was wicked in some way for whatever reason, and aside from them the only person I really had who seemed to care about me in any capacity was Josh.

I flipflopped between being enormously disappointed by romance. I had really truly believed that things were more cinematically beautiful when it came to love. I felt like it was a waste how people made things so unromantic. And by romantic I don't mean like love and affection – though that is part of it. I mean, I thought that life should be played out like a theater and people should live with their hearts on their sleeves. When people are lonely, the loneliness should be transformed into something beautiful and tortured and timeless. When people were angry, they should express that with more theatrical intent. I'd read more books than I had ever talked to people – Josh said he could tell by the way that I spoke like I was reading a book rather than having a conversation. But so far, everyone was really sloppy and everyone wanted to get something for nothing, and they would rather be passively entertained then make their life – with all it's imperfections into something artful. I found myself recreating people's boring exterior when I got to know them better into something more to my taste. I made up stories about the people I saw on the streets. And I vowed that if life killed me, I would make sure I didn't die a slow meaningless death built around empty comfort. I wanted to live a life that I could write about.

I remember Whitney started liking this guy at work – I don't even remember his name in all sincerity. He looked strangely and a bit vaguely like my brother David – only more tan and older and more mature and such. He had a really nice car and his long time girlfriend had just left him, and he was pretty nice overall – and Whitney made a secret comic book about him and we both called him the Moonman as a code word. He left for Seattle two months after he started and I never really saw him again. But while he worked as a cook at Zany's, I studied how Whitney looked him in the eyes one time, and it really shocked me. She did this swirly thing in her pupils when she looked at him one time while opening the door, and it crossed my mind that people all around me were putting out these intentional microexpressions towards one another in order to lure the other in. I had just been legitimately surprised. I didn't understand that kind of body language I guess.

I had nothing left to lose, and Josh was pretty much the only important person to me anymore. I had a deep care for Allison's well being even if I could do nothing for her – she was a teenager and her life had just been a wreck and someone needed to secretly be looking out for her even if she didn't realize that right now. I hovered around in the outskirts of her life calmly looking over her to make sure she was safe. I knew Josh and Whitney were terrible influences. Ultimately though – I wanted Allison out of the situation because she wasn't getting anything positive from this experience living at the madhouse and mainly, Josh had suddenly become my main objective in life. He took over every failed relationship I had ever had spanning throughout my teen years and early adulthood. Josh replaced my concept of family. He replaced my feelings of longing I had once had for Zack. He replaced my friendships. And what's more, he also created all this new want and care and love I had not even fully realized existed. I didn't even know what I wanted from him to be honest. I just loved him unconditionally, and I could never imagine myself being anywhere else that wasn't besides him – even if he never properly understood that. The idea of being his girlfriend – though I was satisfied by the idea, it seemed besides the point. I felt like the concept of being a significant other was a very loose description for an idea that wasn't as evolved as what I wanted.

Whitney and Allison were in the way of me and Josh, they created a barrier that seemed dumb. Josh and I had a lot more in common than them. In fact, I had never met anyone in my life I felt I had so much in common with. I didn't feel like I would ever really get to know Josh unless they were out of the picture however. He would cling to Whitney and try to contend with Allison and I would sit quietly in the corner, or I would leave the room entirely and that was that. Quietly, I began to smile to myself every morning and undermine them whenever it was morally fair to do so. I felt like the smartest person in the house because I did it by planting ideas in Allison and Whitney's minds, I did it by being in the right place at the right time in a way that disarmed Josh, and I did it with eye contact. When I walked by Josh and Whitney sitting on the couch together, I would get this wave of jealousy that made me nauseated, but rather than let myself crumple, I would use that pain and I sincerely believe I was sending brainwaves to Josh that were intensely clear and that on some level he felt it. I was planting seeds in his mind too. I wanted him to think about me. Him and I would look at one another and it would be a strange moment for the both of us. And then I would leave the room. I never stuck around. I almost always made myself unavailable so that he didn't feel as bored of me as he might Whitney or Allison. I felt though, that even though I had left the room I was still lingering in his mind a little bit.

I guess I figured that was the key. Find ways to linger in someone's mind while you are gone. Give them that strange space to ponder what you were doing, what you said, how you looked and intentionally plant yourself in those situations so that it all happens before them by 'accident'. Try to get that in their minds. Then you leave them alone. When they see you again they will be self conscious because they were thinking about you. Then you can randomly smile at them and walk away and pretend not to see them at other times, or you can even set up awkward situations where you see them in a vulnerable position or they see you. It's a game I put a great deal of thought to. It sometimes takes several months to properly wear them down. And it seemed so strange to me to do this. Seduction almost seems more like war. You are aiming at your objective lovers weaknesses – but you are doing so in a way that will make them think you have what they want.

But at night I felt crazy and sad and starved. I remember crying once when I woke up at three in the morning to Josh – who was by now frantically obsessed with Whitney all over again, and telling her he was in love with her. He just knocked on the door, and said 'Whitney, I am in love with you and I can't stop thinking about you'. At the time this seemed so endearing and meaningful. I could never imagine anyone ever being so overcome with love that they would be that bold. She of course screamed at him and then they did their whole meaningless routine of exchanges that meant very little. Would there ever come a day when someone would knock on my door at three in the morning to tell me they were in love with me? Of course not. I didn't have the qualities that people fall for.

Despite my eating disorder that I was keeping to myself, despite how horrible I felt, I was beginning to feel like the sanest person in the house. What I was coming to realize was that what I suffered from more than anything was mood shifts. My thinking was actually very clear. I never became violently angry – but I went between blissful contentment, sudden sparks of energy that felt like tingling balls of euphoria running down my legs, and I would become hyper goal oriented, and when I didn't immediately see results for the quiet things I did to make my goals happen – which usually was something that wouldn't change things too drastically, like dying my hair or saying a joke to someone, then I would suddenly feel this pang in my chest of self loathing and I would become frustrated and then I would disassociate and spiral into this weird gloomy depression which usually ended in me doing something to punish myself – forcing myself to eat something I didn't want to, or abstaining from food for a lot longer than I should, or else I would force myself to sleep all day as punishment. And after I had punished myself and screamed hysterically into the silent void of my pillow, I would feel almost an absence in my head and heart. I would put my make up on and timidly open the door and tip toe about my life and it would all start again – usually in a week and a half to three week spirals.

I didn't let anyone know about these mood shifts, though if anyone had been close enough to me they would have been apparent. In a way I had always felt this way. It seemed perfectly natural to me, and I wondered if maybe I just cared more than other people or was too sensitive for my own good, as my evil kindergarten teacher had told my parents. Or maybe this pleasure/pain cycle was how people are meant to experience the world. All I knew is that I didn't want to involve anyone else. I felt like any imperfection from me would strain what little involvement I had in the world.

But Whitney seemed crazy because she seemed to not have any real sense of reflection for her behavior – where as I was very aware of everything around me and what I had done and said that might have been bad. Whitney wanted what she wanted and she would scream and cry till she got it. She used people. She was fake deep. She was always a victim and when she had to admit that she had done something wrong, she would talk in this babyish voice about how she was an evil little girl like it was cute. She used sexuality to get men to trust her and then she messed with them until they were a mess. In a way I didn't care that much – a lot of the guys she had been with were legitimately horrid people and their attraction to Whitney always came with this ugly patriarchal entitlement. Some evil part of me thought she was inflicting justice on some of these jerks. Years down the road, I strongly came to suspect that she had histrionic personality disorder. It just fit her very well. I did sympathize with her ultimately. I think deep in the layers she was sad and there wasn't anything remotely that a person could do to reach her. She was broken in the way where she wasn't really even recognizing herself. She had a sort of artistic awareness of the world, but there was a lack in real character and there would never be further development. Nobody would ever get honesty from her. As messed up as I was, I knew I could be reached and I didn't enjoy the symptoms of my issues. I could sense that somewhere outside the current options, there was opportunity for growth.

Josh was very entitled and self absorbed and he seemed to require a lot of balance in order to keep straight. Which made sense because he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and the longer I got to know him, the more clear this all became. He seemed to reset every three months, but living with Josh wasn't like living with the same person he had been a week ago. There were twelve different fully operational personalities almost, and each of them had a different connection to a different person. He even looked different, despite doing very little that was different with his hair or scruff. And Josh made people feel really special – because he seemed to look into people in a way that we all hope someone might, even in grocery stores. You just hope someone will look in your eyes and see your soul, and he really seemed to have that kind of clarity about him. But then randomly he was cold and jealous and shallow – and none of it made any sense. I felt there was some beautiful vulnerable insecure boy in him somewhere that nobody had hugged, and I wished more than anything I could get that side of him to come out. I wanted him to trust me. But when it came right down to a lot of his behavior and his selfish streaks, I felt he was a little bit crazy.

And Allison was just gone and I didn't know how to get her back. She seemed lost and hurt and confused. She spent days at a time in her bedroom. She tried to hang out with Whitney and Josh, but they both used her as a tool to work against one another, and I think Allison was beginning to feel used. She holed up in her room and listened to her indie pop music, pet Jude, and cried. All four of us living together, it was why the place was eventually nicknamed the 'madhouse'.

Sarah rarely ever wrote me back. When we worked together she always avoided me. She would scrape the plates into the dish pit garbage and I would spray them and we didn't talk too much. Occasionally we would make light conversation. I would ask her about her doctor visits and stuff. I missed her so much. I had to continuously remind myself that she didn't want to be my friend anymore, and that Zack was who she had chosen over me. But somehow I knew she was also empathizing with what I was going through – it was telling in her avoidance of me, and in the shiny glint of awareness she had in her eyes that she always gave me that made me feel like she was looking through me, and it was hard for me to juggle that despite her lack of communication, she was also on my side even though she had compromised our friendship and opposed me a friend. I began to wonder at times if she had left me alone because she didn't want to hurt me anymore more than it had been about me being the damaging element that everyone now seemed to label me as. And what I missed about Sarah was that she actually listened and reflected and stayed calm. Something had gone very wrong with Sarah that year, and in the end that was something she would have to deal with for the rest of her life, and maybe I would never understand what happened. But Sarah brought a certain grace in my life that I was now lacking. I didn't have the support anymore, or the balance. I was having to make it on my own.

I particularly remember a small but important element that Halloween night. I was at work, but nobody was coming in for food, and I am not sure if the place was really worth keeping open. Only sad lonely men in their early sixties had any interest eating on a Halloween night. The air was crisp and cold. The leaves were brightly colored. I felt charged with energy, but that energy seemed just as inclined to work against me as it did work for me. The night had a certain vibrancy to it that stuck with me to this day. Sarah was there as one of the only servers on, but as usual she didn't want to talk to me – I timidly asked if she wanted to go out to eat. She said no. Silently it shattered me. I just wanted to be around her. I told her we wouldn't talk about Zack. I would pay for the full meal. We could just talk about baby clothes. But she still said no. She didn't want to be around me. I felt this zing up my body of self loathing – and I wanted to destroy myself the second she refused. I remained calm. I smiled. I had taught myself to smile whenever I was sad, and in this absurd way, the shininess of my eyes and the intensity of my emotion translated to fairly warm and compassionate soft grin that tricked people, and even tricked me at times. I smiled with my sadness, and I walked to the bathrooms. I was having a miniature panic attack. It wasn't going to kill me to be in the bathrooms for awhile since there was nothing do to. I just looked at myself in the eyes very carefully for several minutes.

I could see madness forming around the corners of my eyes. I could see clarity and craziness in my pupils. I saw some newer version of myself in those eyes, a complete stranger that I knew all to well to be me. I could never be the person I had been in my previous years. I had wanted to break in the dish pit and in the women's bathroom, locked away from anyone who might've seen me – I pulled myself together slowly. I had felt this need to fall apart. But underneath that misery, underneath any pain I felt in the moment was this knowing that it would do no good – Sarah's departure from my life was part of the bigger tale. There was absolutely nothing I could do to make her want to be my friend. I had to live without friends for awhile. It would only project weakness to the universe if I didn't accept that. The sooner I accepted what was on the table, the sooner I could work with what I knew I did have. And at this point this late in the game, I knew better than to think anyone was going to up and change their minds. You can't waste your life crying about your opponent's previous moves on the chessboard. You just have to suck it up and pick your moves.

In my personal headspace, I guess you could say that I had become a practitioner of what I decided was magic, in c – though I have never felt comfortable with explaining this given the scientific method being what it is and also due to the fact that most of what I was going by was circumstantial in the moment, and in part more to gut instinct than anything else. I guess it's the default way that my mind works when I let go of my concentration and try to see things with clarity, more than I would explain it as a strict faith in any given structure that I can ever know that well. But the experience of consciousness has always felt unreal and magic to me. I had too many coincidences happen in my life, and even my draw towards Josh felt very magic to me – it just seemed strange and perfectly fitting that all these odd things had to happen to bring me to the one person in the whole area that I had something in common with. I am nearly certain that we had been in each other's orbit and experienced some strange and very specific things in our life that had finally isolated us in this house. As to what would happen next, I had to stop hoping for anything, and I had to let life unfold naturally – but it was hard not to hold out for things I hoped would become real. Bias is a strong thing.

There was a few days that October where I was walking down streets layered with golden yellow, orange and red leaves in the crisp air, and I felt a certain oneness with everything and I had a clarity that even though I was alone and even though my self esteem was very small in my day to day life – I had an awareness that everything was very big and intricate and all these situations were unfolding to make other things happen. Everything that happened was tied together – and if you shut off your mind you could kind of read into that. To me, my path was clear – I felt present and purposeful in a way I had never felt before. I felt charged somehow by something revitalizing – even though it also left me feeling desperate and alone at times. I was where I was supposed to be and this was all part of that journey to whatever I was meant to become. I felt like my thoughts had a frequency, that they were being transmitted and that I was part of this big beautiful thing that put everything into the place it was meant – even if I died, this was why and how I was meant to die. My story was part of a larger one. I felt like I created opportunities for growth in this way.

And it isn't really that I believe in spells – particularly ones that involve smashing up dried plants and saying words with candles burning. But a repeated thought or idea can begin to manifest itself in the most mysterious ways in your actual life. Symbols can derive meaning. I didn't feel like it worked the way a Christian who prays might want it to. I don't feel like you send for something you want and then you get it – I feel like you have to go about this mindset completely different. The outcome and value of what I am trying to suggest is far stranger than that. It's not unlike making art. And traditional magic such as making a love potion or a spell to make money come your way, just like Abrahamic religion and prayer, probably doesn't have any scientific value outside of the placebo effect – and this goes for horoscopes too. What I guess I sensed though, was that the things we needed in life had a way of drifting to us, or intentionally alluding us – all to some strange end – at least to me. It's admittedly something I can't stand behind as a world philosophy. It's not something I can really defend in the face of starving children – for which there is no higher meaning or purpose than a dead baby that was forgotten and never had an opportunity to live. When I talk about this intricate balance and force behind everything, I don't want to make it seem like a religion. I don't want to make it seem like I even like how these inevitable truths come into play. It's how I operate though. I have tried to ground myself and it doesn't work.

Because of how I seemed to float in this different wave then everyone else, and maybe because I felt like I angered so many people, and because of how much I had used this same strange untethered inner cosmic space in order to reflect and find answers floating (desperately trying to grab an answer is a sure way you will never find it), I felt like a sort of witch. And I continuously saw myself as a witch. Perhaps the symbolism of a witch, about that kind of taboo femininity in culture appealed to me. Maybe it was my kindergarten teacher's fear of my left handedness. Or perhaps I had found ways to manipulate others in a way that was suggestive and quiet – more given that I was surrounded by brute anger that I couldn't outmatch by my family, than it was given any intensely manipulative inclinations I had. I felt that I had somehow become the type of women that makes society uncomfortable. I seemed to get a strong reaction from people. Maybe all the crazy stuff from that year had been just me waking up to a truer version of myself that was coming into play because I had finally been able to take control of my own life. And maybe that was why everyone had turned against me. It was more or less just a theory, but in any case, I half held that theory as having a touch of truth to it.

Just as a certain kind of women made 17th century people uncomfortable with themselves and their society, I felt like I was some kind of postmodern version of all that – I felt a kinship to all the women who came before me who filled the same role. There is something in the collective unconscious to be said for that feminine force that tears everything to pieces. I served the sort of chaotic pool that everything we know comes from, the source of everything. I could feel that chaos in my chest as I walked to work in the morning, and I felt like it affected people. It's not that I wanted to hurt anyone, but having this new set ability to make people notice me was hard for me to ignore or monitor in myself. I respect structures, but it's also my inclination to tear down those structures when they no longer work. I wanted people who drove by me in their cars headed for work to question why they were driving to work. I wanted loveless marriages to end, I wanted housewives to get tattoos and everyone who couldn't break free and be themselves to do just that.

Everything gets taken down sooner or later. I accepted my ambiguous chaotic nature for what it was after I realized that Sarah and I were never going to be packing up and leaving everything behind us to get to Seattle. That had been my last ditch effort to do the sane thing. But now I was left here, and I didn't have the wherewithall to leave, so I was going to win this 'game' of whatever that had been played against me. I let go and became who I was meant to become. Some of what I was, wasn't even a person I was terribly proud of. But it was better to acknowledge it. I obsessed over my future in certain ways, but in other ways I really let go and let something deep and suppressed from years of living with my father and mother and from school. If I seemed neurotic than so be it. And it gave me this ability to interact with the world in a way that was meaningful and in someways underhanded – I had found some thread of control in a cruel indifferent world and I was able to have some agency after years of having none. I could use eye contact to be manipulative or I could use no eye contact. I could use speech patterns even. I could navigate my surroundings using my child self, or I could use my queen goddess self and both were legitimate. A lot of it was plainly psychological. You had to let people work against themselves, and face their life alone. You can't work with something that isn't there. You can't force a person who is madly dedicated and in love to leave that person. But you can recognize instrinsic weaknesses in said person and make them think they are falling in love with you – and once they believe they are, then they are – it's a slippery slope, but you can't make a slope out of something that runs uphill. I had finally discovered that – I had been working against the natural grain – hoping that my whimsies and fantasies would come true for me on account that I had suffered. And when I really let go into this sort of daze when my mind was at it's clearest, I knew myself better than I had ever known myself in my entire life.

Amanda at work tried to get me to go out on a date with a friend of a friend of hers. But then she thought better of it. She often drove me home from work and we would talk. She always stopped at the same gas station after work to get cigarettes. She talked about her fiance. He made her insecure – she didn't outright say that but I could tell it was true. She never felt like she was good enough. I had met him once after work that summer and I thought he was kind of a creepy gross asshole. She told me that I reminded her of her sister who had died. It was a little strange. In some ways we were similar. Both of us came from dysfunctional homes – and in some ways we had chosen to react to it all very differently. Amanda always feared that the more uppity servers looked down on her  because she seemed anxious and crude. They probably did. She felt she had overcome her demons to some extent, but brimming behind it all was this fear that she would inevitably begin to warp into her mother. I guess in my own way I have that fear as well. Us girls can never quite escape the genetics of our mothers.

Josh decided to conduct a 'family meeting' in the living room one evening after Halloween. It was to take place after we got off work. Whitney and Allison balked on it,  but I got dressed up and strategically decided to show up. Allison and Whitney were called in, and Josh one at a time began picked us apart. But he didn't pick me apart – because he couldn't. I had been watchful of everyone around me for the previous five months and I was prepared to be whoever I needed to be in order to gain Josh's regard. In many ways I used Whitney and Allison's insecurities and annoying behaviors to outline my own exemplary 'Josh-approved' behavior. I had been bookish when Allison and Whitney had been lazy and flawed in their thinking. I practiced self control when they over indulged. I was kind when they were mean. I listened to whatever Josh said when they ignored him. I recognized that Josh admired people who philosophize and question their surroundings. Obviously I was already good at that. It was an example of manipulating what was there. Everyday I found ways to demonstrate to Josh that Allison and Whitney were no fun to have around, and I was his ideal – I was his match. I silently lived up to his standards. I would cut my hair as he wanted me to, dress nicely everyday. I would read books when it was appropriate. I would listen to him talk about whatever topic he felt he knew a lot about. He didn't realize how intentional a lot of this stuff was. Not that my assets weren't real – I wasn't putting anything out there that wasn't some facet of me. I just demonstrated them intentionally, and made him believe it was his keen eye that happened to take notice.

To me, I felt this was the first win I had had in a very long time. In a way it was ruthless. I saw the other girls in my life as competition. Sarah (who had never had a spark of interest in joining the race), had been eliminated due to pregnancy and Zack. Allison was mostly freaking out because she wanted Josh's attention – she had had an idea of who he was and was not really willing to listen to anything he actually said. It was a combination of her being extremely self centered and being taken advantage of. She was letting Whitney lead her on – who was intentionally using Allison to make Josh even angrier. The poor girl could do nothing right in Josh's mind by the end. If I had not been in love with Josh, had he not been the primary benefactor in my life (I had to recognize everyday that having my own room was one of the best things that had ever happened to me), had Josh not meant so much to me in some cosmic destiny kind of way, I would have been upset with how someone so much older than Allison was mad at her like they were both teenagers. It wasn't beyond me to see how pathetic Josh was being – being led into hating some poor teenager girl who liked him because he had provoked her into believing it was acceptable. And Whitney just had no interest in Josh. She just wanted to rile him up before she went out and found a boyfriend so that there could be tension and hostility and she could feel sought after by two men rather than one.

Meanwhile, while everyone spun their wheels down – playing every card they had, I had quietly been observing everyone and gaining Josh's trust – holding aces. I knew the right moments to express intimacy and vulnerability and empathy for him in a silent way. And I knew when to hold back. It was a game. I felt like I had broken the ice with him in some quiet way. And I was proud too, because I realized that this was the first time I had ever been in love. I played this game and I knew how to win it because I actually loved Josh and I knew we were meant to be together. I could not have played the game so well had I not been meant to play it. This wouldn't have worked with a man I wasn't interested in. He was questioning himself if he liked me at times – it didn't feel right and he would put the thought away, but the point for me was that I had reversed his notion that I wasn't girlfriend material and I was causing him to feel confusion in regards to me.

Eventually I think Whitney picked up that Josh and I were quietly and wordlessly on the same page. It frustrated her because I was undermining her influence. Josh couldn't be nearly as obsessed with her if he had someone else to focus on. One evening Whitney was getting ready to go be a hostess. It was my day off, and it was just her and I in the house. Allison was at her weird school and Josh was off to his cableman job. Whitney and I were talking loosely about Josh – I don't remember what was said and it wasn't very meaningful or deep, like it was probably his favorite condiment or something trivial. Suddenly she blurted out angrily 'Josh will never marry you Renee! You don't have enough money!!', and with that she ran down the stairs. She said it in this way that was meant to be catty but cutting. Like she had opened a wound of sorts. But it sounded more desperate on her own part. I mostly was confused because I had no idea where she got that from what we had been talking about. And to be honest, as obsessed with Josh as I was, I had never said or ever really considered marriage – I still felt young and marriage was too adult.

All I wanted was to be his favorite person in the whole world – and for all the other girls in his life to go away. I wanted to be his best friend. Marriage is a financial arrangement. What Whitney was ultimately expressing was her insecurity with me playing her opposite. She felt her power in the house waning based on Josh's newfound appreciation for me. I counteracted her behavior very well. I made her look bad a lot. She was trying to make me feel insecure. I suppose she didn't actually understand what I wanted. Maybe she had some strange idea that marriage was the 'ultimate' thing I was looking for in life. And if Josh and her had had some silly childish conversation about what it would take Josh to want to marry me, and money had been thrown in, then I wasn't very hurt either. I didn't think Josh was in love with me. What I felt was more that I had come to a position with Josh where his feelings for me were fluid. He felt a lot of stuff – he kind of worked that way anyway. But since I knew I was meant to meet him and become some kind of partner of his, I didn't really doubt that he felt drawn to me. Of course he did. This was all meant to happen. It most certainly wasn't some weird money game. I am not even sure where money ever played a part, and I never found out.

Whitney started trying to date this guy she had been talking to for a few years. She met him back when she used to work at a computer parts factory. His first name was Christopher Lukas. Josh had worked with him as well at that same factory. And he was just the worst. I can't even really explain it. I knew Josh was resentful and jealous of Whitney being with some other guy, but he also seemed matter of fact straight forward when he warned me about how annoying and unpleasant this guy was.  Whitney invited him on a few dates. And Josh was right very correct. This guy knocked on the door one day and I felt grossed out instantly. He had this buzzy nasally voice and he spoke very clearly and arrogantly. He looked down at Whitney like a horny creep. I could tell Whitney was appalled by him, but she was hard up for male attention and was willing to try anything once to distract herself from the insatiable impulse to be the center of attention and make the world more chaotic and the ultimate loneliness of existence that can never be filled simply by sleeping next to a boy – but that never stopped Whitney from trying.

It only lasted about two weeks, but in those two weeks Whitney drove Allison and I up to Moscow so she could meet up with Chris. I went along because back in the day there was a very cool little record store in downtown Moscow, where you could find very indie albums that almost nobody in Idaho knew about but was all very mainstream in Seattle or Portland. It was affiliated with Subpop Records somehow. Anyway, it went out of business about five years ago now, and it was a shame to see it go. Idaho has very little in the way of options for people with alternative tastes or ideas in just about anything. You can drive down a city and see a lot of bookstores and exotic food stores and restaurants and record stores and think nothing of it, but in Idaho, a single one of those places is gold if you grew up forced into the singular boring redneck culture of Idaho.

It was  also a great opportunity to get out of the house for awhile – to get out of Lewiston specifically. I remember it was November by this time, and just on the verge of being snowy – as Moscow always gets in the winter. I remember feeling under dressed and cold. It was rainy. I lent Whitney a lot of my PJ Harvey albums, and she listened to White Chalk over and over in the car ride. If only Whitney and I could have somehow forged an aesthetically based friendship (which I am not even sure exists), we would have had something for the gods to envy. She didn't like all of the stuff I liked, but between her and I we really shared a lot of aesthetic interests – more so than anyone else I had met. She had a beautiful vision for things. It was a shame for me a lot of times we couldn't actually connect as people at all. Like, it made all the sense in the world, but somehow it never worked.  

I was wondering about the record shop looking through the records. I decided to buy Whitney a collection of the pretty much complete Vaselines as an early Christmas present. David, Allison and I had really loved the Vaselines and I thought Whitney might like them also. I don't remember what I ended up buying for Allison, but what I got for myself was one of the most critical and important albums I ever listened to on a personal level, and it's impossible for me to listen to that album to this dying day and not be transported back to a time and place. It was Morrissey's 'Vauxhall and I'. I ended up taking that album home and I put it in the player and it played on repeat for days on end. Every lyric of Morrissey's hit home with me in a very personal way. Every song on there was gold to me. It was an album that simultaneously helped me with grief, helped me reemerge from the ashes, and pushed me both into darkness and into light. So many of Morrissey's lyrics and thoughts felt like ones that I had had at some point or other. I guess it had never actually occurred to me that Morrissey was someone I was that similar to. He always had seemed so delicate and pompous in a quiet way, and 80's.

From there, I went back and started listening to The Smiths. Which soon ranked high as one of my favorite bands. And The Smiths are still up at the top. I fucking love The Smiths. Eventually my taste for Morrissey expanded. It's not all grand in the way that The Smiths were, or some of his early albums were – but Morrissey helped me cope with and make light of my own miserable existence. It helped me differentiate myself from the kitchen workers I saw every single day, the lost and boring and repressed people that went about their business everyday. And Morrissey was in some ways very fearless in his time. He wasn't afraid to be soft, something I scarcely recognized in a male dominated culture – and he even seemed to intentionally make himself an easy target to those who were hyper masculine. He was pessimistic and romantic all in one. He wasn't afraid to care about animals or be open. I felt like I was living some kind of nightmare at times, even though I often found ways to enjoy what I was doing – but Morrissey made me realize I was less alone. People had just as miserable and hopeless existences in England throughout the 70's as they did in Idaho. It was all very factory based, very hopeless and gloomy. And yet all these post punk bands and artistic things had started to happen either in spite or because of it - be it new wave, punk, goth, synth and post punk. A lot of people who felt hopeless in their dull rainy factory towns had decided to start making art. It made me see my own life and potential a little differently.

PART 107 - https://tinyurl.com/y8uyusr7

PART 106 - https://tinyurl.com/ycqhlqsy

PART 105 - https://tinyurl.com/ybjvm23b

PART 104 - https://tinyurl.com/yauo5f78

PART 103 - https://tinyurl.com/yblwsv3p

PART 102 - https://tinyurl.com/yc5m3cq7

PART 101 - https://tinyurl.com/yafyhse2

PART 100 - https://tinyurl.com/ycvye2n4

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-100 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-100

#text #writing #life story #long text